


Tis The Season

by Emospritelet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Awkward Conversations, Christmas Fluff, Family Dinners, Family Fluff, First Time, Fluff, I have never written so much fluff in my life and I think I might die, Multi, Oral Sex, Romantic Fluff, Smut, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, fun with frosting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-02-10 23:27:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 29,252
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12922485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: A series of fluffy festive fic prompts from tumblr.  This was originally G and T prompts only, but due to the prompts I've gotten the rating is going up.The ship for each ficlet is shown in the chapter title.  All ficlets G or T unless stated otherwise in the chapter title.





	1. SwanQueen: “You’re covered in flour.”

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts all come from a list I posted on tumblr. Feel free to send me a prompt and a ship throughout December if you want something short and fluffy for your OTP (or OT3). Happy to write most OUAT ships (doesn't have to be canon), but no CS, no Hook and no pairings that have either Rumple or Belle with someone else. I am Rumbelle ride or die.

Regina sighed with relief as she put her key in the door, pushing it open.  Storybrooke Town Hall was now closed for the holidays, and she had been looking forward to getting home and settling in for the festive season.  Relief turned to concern as the acrid scent of something burning tickled her nose.

“Crap!”

The sound of Emma cursing made her smile, and there was the clang of something hitting the floor in the kitchen.  Regina rolled her eyes, closing the door behind her and taking off her coat.

“Is everything okay?” she called, and there was a moment of silence.

“Shit, you weren’t supposed to be here until six!”

“It _is_ six.”

Regina entered the kitchen, blinking at the sight that greeted her.  Emma was sweeping up a pile of what looked like burnt cookies.  The kitchen resembled a winter wonderland, but the white substance covering the floor and table wasn’t snow.  Henry was sitting in his high chair at the table, flour coating his face and arms.  He sent Regina a gummy smile, gurgling happily.  Emma herself had large white patches on her jeans and the flannel shirt she was wearing.  There was even flour in her hair.

“You’re - you’re covered in flour,” said Regina, and Emma pulled a face.

“I was trying to bake cookies,” she admitted.  “Henry was - well, I’m sure he thought he was helping.  By throwing flour all over both of us.  And then I kind of let the cookies burn.  And then I dropped ‘em, getting them out of the oven.  So all in all my cookie-baking idea kind of sucked.”

Regina went to the kitchen drawers and pulled out an apron, tying it around herself.

“Well, why don’t I help make some more?” she suggested, and slid her arms around Emma’s waist, kissing the flour from her nose.


	2. Rumbelle: “Awwww look at my little elf.”

Gold sucked in a breath of frigid air, hoping the shock to his lungs would give him the kick up the arse he needed.  It was Christmas Eve: snow covered the sidewalks of Storybrooke, and his four year old son Baeden was dressed as an elf, complete with bells on his hat and boots.  A hand-painted sign on the library doors advertised  _Christmas Story Party Time!!!_   With three exclamation points.

Putting the flat of his hand against the door, Gold pushed, letting out a wave of heat to wash over him.  Christmas music was playing, a lively tune with an excess of bells and chimes, in his opinion.  The library was decorated with tinsel and lights, a tree in the corner covered with baubles and other decorations, and he could see a little table set up with paper cups of fruit punch, candy canes and cinnamon biscuits.

“No one’s here!” said Bae loudly.

“Well, I imagine we’re early,” said Gold, choosing to ignore the fact that he had been ready for the four o’clock party since three, and that getting out of the house had been the only way to quiet his thumping heart.

There was a noise from the corner behind the stacks of non-fiction, and Gold felt his heart clench as the librarian trotted into view, a wide smile on her face.  Belle French was beautiful, clever, kind, and way out of his league.  None of which had prevented him from falling head over heels in love with her.  Her face brightened as she recognised them.

“Awwww, look at my little elf!” she said, squatting down to cup Bae’s cheek.  “I’m gonna be counting on you to help me out with the presents, okay?”

“There are presents?” asked Bae excitedly, and Belle’s smile grew.

“You can help me hand them out as soon as the other children get here,” she promised.  “You two are - kind of early.”

She gave Gold a quizzical look as she spoke, and he opened and closed his mouth.

“I - mistook the time,” he managed, and she gave him a look with those gorgeous blue eyes that suggested she didn’t believe him.

“In that case,” she said.  “Why don’t we all have a cup of this punch?  I think I’d like to get to know you a little better.”


	3. Rumbelle: "It's almost midnight" / You've never had a New Year's kiss - Doctor!Gold and Candy Striper!Belle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get the definition of Candy-Striper quite right, but hey - my British is showing

Belle hurried along the corridor, files clutched to her chest, huffing a curl of hair out of her face.  New Year’s Eve in Storybrooke General was just as busy as she had predicted, the more so because half the staff had taken the night off.  The party at Granny’s had gotten out of hand, and she had already admitted four people with injuries from fist fights, and one with suspected alcohol poisoning.  She was looking forward to being relieved at six a.m, but in the meantime Dr Gold would want his patient files.

Her heart skipped a beat at the thought of him, that short, thin man with the cold, quiet manner and the long hair that fell around his face.  It looked soft enough for her to want to run her hands through, and she remembered the first day she had met him, and how she had been tongue-tied, a surge of unexpected lust going through her at the look in his dark eyes.  She was always ridiculously happy whenever she heard that she would be on shift with him, and the fact that he seemed completely unaware of her all-consuming crush was almost painful.

She trotted into the ward, where Dr Gold was checking up on Leroy, the suspected alcohol poisoning case.  He made a note on the chart, setting it back in place at the end of the bed, and Belle hurried over with the other files.

“Who’s next?” he asked absently, taking them.

“Henry Swan-Mills slipped on the ice,” she said.  “Suspected broken arm.”

“That boy’s always in trouble,” he muttered, and looked up, seeming to notice her for the first time.  “Haven’t you been here all night?  You should get home.”

“I’m covering for Astrid,” she said.   _And I wanted to spend time with you._

“Still,” he said.  “New Year’s Eve.  Don’t you young people count down the hour and kiss each other, or something?”

Belle grinned, feeling bold.

“Well, it  _is_  almost midnight,” she said.  “How about it?”

“How about what?”  He looked confused.

“New Year’s Eve kiss, of course.”

Dr Gold swallowed hard, blinking at her uncertainly.

“I’ve - I’ve never had one.”

“You’ve never had a New Year’s Eve kiss?” she said.  “I could change that, you know.”

“You - you want to kiss me?”  He looked almost alarmed at the prospect, and she shrugged, glancing at the bed.

“Well, it doesn’t look as though Leroy would be up to it, so yeah.”

Dr Gold licked his lips, a flick of his pink tongue, and it made her belly clench.

“Alright,” he said.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

“At midnight, then,” she said, and they watched as the time counted down.

“Five,” she said, and Dr Gold murmured with her.  “Four.  Three.  Two.  One.”

She leaned in to kiss him, the press of his lips soft and warm against hers, and Dr Gold let out a tiny groan of pleasure that made her abdomen clench.  His arms went around her, and she melted into him as the kiss deepened.  Eventually she pulled back, their lips parting, the taste of him still on her tongue.

“Happy New Year,” she said softly, and he smiled.

“Yes.”


	4. Rumbelle, Baby!Swanfire: "My gingerbread house is prettier than yours"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairing was given, so I went with Rumbelle and Baby!Swanfire

Belle pulled a face as she found another blob of frosting in her hair.  Her idea of letting a class of six-year-olds decorate gingerbread houses had seemed a good one.  Certainly the children had enjoyed themselves, but then Emma Swan and Neal Gold had squirted frosting at one another, the others had thought this a great idea, and Belle had been caught in the crossfire.  Parents were now starting to arrive to take their children home, and she wanted to sigh in relief.

A tapping sound came from the corridor, and Belle felt herself blush a little as she recognised it.  Mr Gold had come to collect Neal, then.  She had been looking forward to seeing him all day, but now he was here she was starting to think that perhaps it would have been better if she hadn’t been hot and bothered and covered in frosting.  The man was always immaculate, and she seemed to lose what little coordination and grace she possessed whenever he was around.

He smiled at her when he entered the room, dark eyes crinkling at the corners, and she felt her heart lurch.  He was wearing a fuchsia silk shirt beneath a black suit, and the colour gave his skin a warm hue.  His eyes swept over her, brows rising as he took in her appearance.  Belle’s blush deepened.

“Miss French,” he said.  “I - see you’ve had your hands full with these little monsters.”

“I’m not a monster,” piped up Emma, tossing her blonde hair.

“No, you’re a poop-head,” said Neal, and stuck out his tongue.

Emma looked down her nose at him.

“My gingerbread house is prettier than yours.”

“It is  _not_!”

“That’s enough,” said Gold.  “Neal, why don’t you carry the gingerbread house out to the car?”

“Can I go to Emma’s for dinner?” he asked, and Gold shook his head.

“We haven’t arranged anything with her parents,” he said.  “And besides, would you leave me eating dinner all alone?”

“Ask Miss French to dinner, then,” said Neal, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.  Mr Gold glanced at Belle, then looked away again.

“I’m - I’m sure Miss French has better things to do than eat dinner with me,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.

“I’d like to say that was true,” said Belle.  “But I’m afraid the most exciting thing in my near future will be showering to get this frosting off.”

Mr Gold cleared his throat, and she was surprised to see a faint blush in his cheeks.  She wondered what he was thinking.

“You can come over after that, then,” said Neal.  “Papa can share dessert with you.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to steal your Papa’s dessert,” said Belle, ruffling Neal’s hair.  “I’m sure he’s been looking forward to it all day.”

Mr Gold smiled, his eyes gleaming, and she badly wanted to kiss him.

“Well,” he said.  “Perhaps another time.”

“Friday night?” offered Belle, and his eyes widened.

“I - uh - yes, alright,” he managed.  “Friday night.  I’ll - I’ll get a sitter.”

“I’ll go to Emma’s,” said Neal.  “If you’re gonna kiss and be gross I don’t wanna be there.”


	5. Red Cricket: “We’re kind of tangled in lights.”

Ruby swore under her breath as she stretched across the eaves of the inn, one foot balanced precariously on the ladder as she wielded a staple gun.  She supposed it would have been easier to get down and move the ladder, but Granny had told her she wasn’t going out until all the decorations were up.  So she had spent the past twenty minutes stapling icicle-shaped strings of lights to the guttering.

“That doesn’t look too safe, Ruby.”

Archie’s voice made her start, and she glanced around, seeing him gazing up at her worriedly, hands clasping the handle of the umbrella he carried everywhere.

“Nah, it’s fine,” she said airily.  “I have everything completely under control.”

Looking back, she would tell herself that she was asking for trouble with that statement, and Archie opened his mouth as though he was about to say the same thing.  She stretched a little further, the ladder wobbled, and she fell with a shriek, lights coming down with her.  Her fall was broken by another body, and she heard a low grunt from Archie as the air was driven from his lungs by her impact.  Christmas lights covered them, and Ruby tried to catch her breath, her heart thumping.  Archie was looking up at her, a little dazed, and she thought how good he smelled, and how much she wanted to kiss him.

“We’re - we’re kind of tangled in lights,” she said, stating the obvious.  “Sorry.  Guess I didn’t have  _anything_  under control, right?”

He looked amused at that, and somewhat flustered, and she wanted to think it was because she was on top of him, and he had as much of a crush on her as she had on him.  The flush in his cheeks suggested he did.

“How about I hold the ladder for you?” he said.  “And - and maybe I could buy you a drink later?”

Ruby grinned widely.

“That sounds perfect.”


	6. Gold Family: “That’s not how Santa Claus works…”

The Gold household was almost ready for Christmas, and Belle was putting up the last of the decorations, sprigs of mistletoe entwined with holly and stretching across the mantelpiece.  It was suspiciously quiet in the house, and she frowned, looking over her shoulder to where Gideon and Bae were whispering together in the corner.

“Remember to say ‘please’ and ‘thank you’,” said Gideon.  “Papa says you should always be polite.”

“What are you two doing?” asked Belle, and seven-year-old Bae jerked, looking guilty.

“Nothing.”

“We’re writing a letter to Santa Claus,” piped up four-year-old Gideon.

“Didn’t you send off your letters last week?”

She knew they had.  The letters were tucked in her underwear drawer, brought out to smile over with their father on more than one occasion.

“Yeah, but we changed our mind about what we want,” said Bae earnestly.  “Roland’s dad lost his job, and he told Roland that he couldn’t afford to send money to Santa this year for the presents, so Santa won’t be bringing that much.”

“And he’s been good  _all year_!” insisted Gideon, almost indignantly.

“So we’re asking Santa if he could give some of our presents to Roland,” added Bae, and Belle smiled broadly.

“That’s very kind of you both,” she said.  “Are you sure Roland’s father would be okay with it, though?”

“You can’t argue with Santa,” said Bae.  “If he wants to give Roland presents, they’ll end up under the tree, right?”

“I think Santa might want to consider his father’s feelings on the subject.”

“That’s not how Santa Claus works.”  Gideon blinked up at her with large dark eyes.  “You guys don’t send off reports on us, it’s all done by the elves.  Miss Blanchard says so.”

Belle thought quickly, running a hand through her hair, and glanced over to where her husband was leaning in the doorway, watching his sons with a grin on his face.

“I tell you what, boys,” he said.  “Your letter might not reach Santa in time, so why don’t we go into town and buy some presents for Roland instead?  That way Santa won’t have to change his orders.  We can’t have the elves getting mixed up so near to Christmas.  I’ll explain to Roland’s dad that it was all your idea.”

“Yeah!” said Gideon enthusiastically, and Bae high-fived him.


	7. Rumbelle: “I told you you were going to get sick if you stayed in the snow all day.”

Belle reflected that winter in the Dark Castle really wasn’t so bad, if you ignored the fact that the snow piled up almost to the windows and there were no visitors for weeks at a time.  At the very least, when the sun shone, she could walk in the snow-covered gardens, and the castle itself was wonderfully warm due to the large fires that never seemed to stop burning.  Rumplestiltskin was also around more than usual, it seemed, and she enjoyed his company.  She suspected he enjoyed hers, too, although he would never admit it.

A loud sneeze made Belle jerk in her chair.  She laid her book aside, getting up and brushing her skirts, and trotted through to Rumplestiltskin’s work room.  He was leaning on the bench, looking at those glass contraptions that he made potions in, and seeming not to see any of it.

“Was that you sneezing?” she asked, and he turned to face her, eyes too bright above his bronze silk shirt.

“No,” he said, so quickly that he might as well have added it was a lie.  Belle folded her arms.

“You’re sick,” she said.

“I am not!” he snapped.  “What I am is very busy.  Far too busy to deal with a nosy maid.”

He pushed off from the bench, swaying slightly, and made his way out of the room.  Belle followed, worry for him warring with exasperation.

“This is all about waiting around in the freezing cold for that idiot princess, isn’t it?” she said.

“I had a deal to make,” he said stiffly.  “I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

His pace quickened a little, as though he was trying to escape her, and he ducked into his bedroom.  Belle followed him in, eyes flicking to the large canopied bed, hung with thick silks in autumnal colours.

“I bet you didn’t take that scarf I made you, did you?” she added.

“It didn’t go with my outfit,” he said sulkily, and she sighed.

“Oh my Gods, Rumple!” she said, exasperated.  “I  _told_  you you were going to get sick if you stayed in the snow all day.”

“Dark Ones don’t get sick,” said Rumplestiltskin loftily, and she pressed a cool palm to his forehead.

“Really?” she said dryly.  “Because you’re burning up and you look terrible.”

“I’m fine!” he snapped, and sneezed loudly.  Belle sighed.

“Get into bed,” she ordered, pointing at it.  “Go on!”

He glowered at her, and she put her hands on her hips, feeling as though she was dealing with a recalcitrant three-year-old rather than the most powerful sorcerer in the land.

“I won’t tell you again.”

Muttering under his breath, he disappeared in a plume of red smoke, re-appearing in the bed, his leathers and silks draped over a chair and his nightshirt on.  Belle nodded firmly.

“Right,” she said.  “I’m going to make you a soothing hot drink and you’re going to stay there until you’re better, got it?”

She flounced off the kitchens to make him a toddy, hot water with spices and lemon, sweetened with honey and with a large measure of brandy poured in.  She carried it up carefully, shaking her head as she heard him sneeze again.  Rumple glanced up as she entered, looking thoroughly miserable, and she couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

“There,” she said, setting the toddy down on the nightstand.  “Drink it while it’s hot.”

She felt his forehead again, wincing at his fever, and he let out a sigh of pleasure at the feel of her cool hand, his eyes closing.

“Thank you, Belle,” he said quietly, and she smiled.

“You’re welcome,” she said.  “I could read to you, if you like.”

His eyes flicked open, burning bright gold, and the corners of his mouth twitched.

“I would like that.”


	8. SwanQueen: “Why does the house smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No pairing was given for this one, but that line is SO Regina it just had to be Swan Queen!

“I don’t know how you talked me into this,” said Regina, walking swiftly up the path, snow squeaking under her shoes.

“Seem to recall it was when we were in bed,” said Emma, grinning.  “Could be the reason.”

Regina shot her a flat look as they mounted the steps.

“Getting me to agree to things when we’re intimate is a misuse of your powers, and I’m officially protesting about it.”

“You’ll have fun,” Emma insisted, taking her fiancée’s hands in hers.  “I promise, Regina.” **  
**

“We’re spending Christmas with the Charmings,” said Regina, not for the first time.  “I think your definition of fun may be a little out.  You know how Snow is.  Organised fun is not fun.”

“Mom’s calmed down a bit since the tree went up,” said Emma, with a shrug.  “I think she worked out most of her pre-Christmas excitement at the kids’ school party.  She didn’t even mention charades.”

“Oh, thank God,” said Regina, with feeling, and Emma pulled her close, kissing her gently.

“We’ll have a good time,” she said.  “I can feel it.”

“All I feel is a migraine coming on.”

Emma kissed her again, and Regina sighed a little, contentment washing over her.  She was smiling when they broke the kiss, and pressed her brow to Emma’s.

“Okay,” she said.  “I’m ready.”

Emma pushed open the front door to the Charmings’ house, and was met by a giggling whirlwind as three-year-old Neal wrapped himself around her legs.

“Hey kid, let me in!” she laughed, trying to walk with him clamped to her shins.  Regina took her arm to steady her, sniffing the air suspiciously.

“Why does the house smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?”

“Oh good, you’re here!”  Snow stuck her head around the kitchen door, smiling excitedly.  “Were making cookies and gingerbread, and after dinner we have games to play!  David, get Regina and Emma a hat each!”

“What?” said Regina flatly, and Emma chuckled softly.

David emerged from the lounge, a set of antlers on his head, red and green hats in his hands and an apologetic look on his face.  He held up the hats, bells jingling from the points.

“Santa or elf?”

Regina have Emma a look that promised retribution later, and held out her hand with a sigh.

“Fine, I’ll be an elf.”


	9. Swanfire: “You’re kind of cute when you look like Rudolph.” -“The reindeer?” -“No, my dentist. Yes, the reindeer.”

Neal stomped snow from his boots, pushing open the door to the diner and enjoying the warmth that washed over him.  At gone ten in the evening, the place was relatively quiet, and he easily managed to get a seat at the bar.  Victor Whale got up, setting down his empty glass and nodding to Neal before picking up his coat, and Neal craned his neck for a glimpse of the person he had come to see.  Emma Swan soon swept into view, carrying a tray of beers and nachos out to a table of seven friends and receiving a chorus of thanks in return.

He watched her straighten up, wincing a little and pressing a hand to her back, and then she was on the move again, blond ponytail swishing as she cleared empty glasses.  He thought she looked tired, her usual spark a little dimmed, and when she rounded the bar to serve him he noticed how red her nose and eyes were.  A winter cold, then.  He hoped she was going to be okay.

“Hey,” she said.  “What can I get you?”

“Oh, I’ll take a beer, and a piece of pie,” he said.  “You okay?”

“Fine,” she said, although she didn’t sound it.  “We have apple, is that okay?”

“Great.  Can I get a scoop of ice cream with it?”

Emma nodded, stepping back to pull his beer, and she set it on the bar, condensation running down the sides of the glass to pool on the polished wood.  Neal grabbed one of the paper coasters and slipped it underneath, and Emma shook her head, reaching into the pocket of her apron for a handkerchief.

“Sorry,” she said.  “Not feeling my best today.  Ruby’s down with the flu, and I think I have the world’s worst cold.  I feel like crap.  Hell, I  _look_ like crap!”

“You look great,” he assured her.  “I’d ask you out, no hesitation.” 

Emma rolled her eyes.

“You’re a terrible liar, Cassidy.”

“I’m serious,” he protested.  “How about it?  One date?”

She eyed him a little warily, but there was amusement there too, making her mouth twitch upwards.

“You’re asking me out on a date?” she asked.  “I did mention the world’s worst cold, right?”

He winked at her.  “You’re kind of cute when you look like Rudolph.”

“What, the reindeer?”

“No, my dentist,” he said patiently.  “Yes, the reindeer.”

“God, is my nose  _that red_?”  She snatched up a spoon, turning it this way and that to see her reflection.  “Ugh, I look terrible!”

“Oh, I don’t know,” he said, with a smile.  “I think you could light my way home no matter how bad the weather was.”

Emma gave him a very level look.

“Does that line usually work?”

“You tell me,” he said, giving her his cheekiest grin, and she folded her arms, looking him up and down with an appraising twist to her mouth.

“Okay,” she said.  “One date.  You can take me to the Christmas market tomorrow and buy me - oh, I don’t know - buy me some eggnog, or something.”

Neal grinned widely.  “It’s a date.”


	10. Dwarf Star: “Hey, um, why is the bottom of the tree decorated and not the top?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, I got a Dwarf Star prompt! *dances*.  I made Astrid a nurse in this, because that way they might actually get a happy ending *glares at the FBF*

“Okay, you should be all set,” announced Leroy, stomping into the hospital children’s ward with his bag of tools in hand.  “You overloaded the thing with all those lights, that’s all.  I put a six-way socket on there with an extension cord and replaced the fuses, so you should be okay now.”

“Oh, thank you Leroy!” gushed Astrid, beaming at him.  “I knew you’d be able to help out!”

“No problem,” he grunted, trying not to blush.

He could feel that odd flutter in his chest again.  It happened whenever she looked at him, and he called himself an idiot for it, but he knew he was in love with her.  Had been ever since he had helped her pick up the candles she had dropped and that had rolled into the road, in danger of passing cars.  Astrid had been trying to sell them to raise money for new toys for the ward, with little success, and he had bought a few to help out.  It had earned him a wide smile and a squeeze of his hand, and he had been a goner from that moment on.  He looked up at the Christmas tree to distract himself, frowning as he saw that the decorations ended about halfway up.

“Hey, um, why is the bottom of the tree decorated and not the top?” he asked, and Astrid blushed a little.

“Oh, you know how accident prone I am,” she said.  “I figured that if I tried to use the stepladder I’d end up breaking something.  Probably myself.”

“Oh,” he said.  “Well - I could help you out, if you like.”

“Really?”  She looked excited again, and he felt his heart thump.

“Sure,” he said.  “Just - you tell me where to hang the stuff, okay?  I’m sure you know how to make everything beautiful.”

Astrid beamed at that, and to his very great surprise, she leaned in to kiss his whiskery cheek.

“I should plug the lights back in,” she said happily, and looked a little shy, swinging from side to side as her eyes sparkled at him.  “You - uh - you want to come to the party?”

“Party?” he said blankly.

“Sure!” she said.  “The kids’ Christmas party!  It starts in an hour!  You could help me hand out their presents.”  She blushed prettily.  “You could - you could be my date.”

Leroy felt his heart swell, and he grinned at her.

“I’d love to.”


	11. Brave Warrior: "Are You Looking For Your Present?"

The sound of scratching and cursing floated through to the kitchen, and Merida frowned, setting down the cups of mulled wine she had just poured.

“Everything okay?” she called, and there was silence.

She walked through to the lounge, surprised to see Mulan with her head in the fireplace, her arms reaching up inside the chimney breast and soot all over her.  Merida folded her arms, shaking back her red curls.

“Are you looking for your present?” she asked, with a grin.  “You know Santa won’t be coming down that thing until midnight, right?”

“Very funny.”

Mulan’s voice was muffled, and she backed out of the fireplace on her knees, hands cupped in front of her.  She was covered in dust and soot, but she was holding something carefully, and Merida squatted down next to her, curious.  Mulan looked up at her, dark eyes gleaming, and Merida brushed a smear of soot from her nose as she held up her hands.  In them was a tiny kitten, its black fur every bit as dirty.  It mewed pitifully, and Merida felt her heart melt.

“Poor thing must have sneaked inside when we brought the tree in,” said Mulan, scratching the kitten’s head.  “I saw it run behind the couch, and I tried to catch it, but it was so frightened it tried to climb up the chimney.”

The kitten was looking at them with large green eyes, still letting out piteous mews, and Merida brushed at its fur, dusting off the soot.

“Let’s see if he’ll eat something,” she said.  “There’s a tin of tuna in the cupboard.”

Mulan smiled, and Merida leaned in to kiss her, tasting soot on her lips.

“I guess you found your present after all,” she said, and Mulan kissed her back before looking down at the kitten, who was now nestled in her hands and purring.

“ _Our_ present,” she said.


	12. SwanFireQueen: "How Much Tape Did You Use?"

The sound of muffled cursing came from the bedroom, and Neal grinned to himself as he pushed open the door.

“Don’t come in!” said Emma quickly, glancing around.  She sagged with relief at the sight of him.  “Oh, it’s you.  Thank God.”

She was surrounded by wrapping paper and presents, looking harassed, and Neal ran a hand through his hair.

“What - uh - what’s up?”

“Where’s Regina?” she asked, a little desperately.

“Gone to pick up Henry from school,” he said.  “She’ll be back any minute.”

“Crap!”  She pulled a face, holding up a present that seemed to be a tangled mess of tape, ribbon and crumpled paper.  “Would you help me out here?”

“Holy shit, Emma, how much tape did you use?”

He took the present from her, and it stuck to her fingers before he could pull it off.

“It - kind of got away from me,” muttered Emma.  “There’s something wrong with this tape.”

“Right,” he said dryly.  “It’s the  _tape_ that’s the problem.”

“Shut up and help me!” she snapped.  “I bet anything that she’s wrapped looks perfect, and these are - well, they’re...”

Neal sighed, and put his hands on her shoulders.

“Emma,” he said patiently.  “Regina loves you, and she’s not gonna care if her presents don’t look perfect under the tree.”

Emma took a breath and let it out, sending him a brief smile.

“Having said that, these look like squirrels tried to nest in ‘em,” he added, and yelped as she whacked his arm.

“How about I re-do them while you get us a glass of something to start the Christmas celebrations?” he suggested then, and Emma grinned, leaning forward to kiss him.

“I love you, you big doofus,” she said.


	13. Gold Family: "So, I didn't actually get you anything"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ficlet had two prompts: 
> 
> "So, I didn't actually get you anything", and "You know Santa?" 
> 
> It follows on from the ficlet at chapter 6, in which Bae and Gideon decide to give some presents to a less fortunate child.

Mr Gold had held his sons’ hands tightly as they walked the streets of Storybrooke, scouring the shops that sold potential gifts for Roland Hood.  Toys and games were now wrapped in brightly-coloured paper and packed into a box, and there were also tins of sweets and chocolates.  Even a pair of slippers with Disney’s Merida on them.

“Roland likes archers,” said Bae, when Gold had asked about them.

It was dark by the time they got to Roland’s house, and he was in the tub, but his father Robin was incredibly grateful for the presents, and for the chance to surprise his boy with some gifts.

“It’s so generous of you two to think of Roland like this, boys,” he said, squatting down with his hands on his knees, and glanced up at Gold.  “Things have been - well, they’ve been pretty difficult since I lost my job.  I was beginning to think that Christmas would be cancelled.”

“Don’t mention it,” said Gold.  “We’ve all been there at times.  Did you try Anton?  He mentioned last week that he was looking for some help on the farm.  I know it’s not ideal, but…”

“No.”  Robin’s face brightened a little.  “No, I don’t mind.  I’ll do anything!”

“It might at least tide you over the festive season,” added Gold.  “And perhaps things will pick up again in the New Year.”

“I’ll go and see him tomorrow,” said Robin, straightening up again.  “Thank you again, boys.  You’re good friends to Roland.”

“You mustn’t tell him it was us,” said Gideon, in a heavy stage whisper.  “It’s a  _secret!_   You have to say they’re from Santa!

“Papa said Santa was too busy, and we weren’t to bother him so close to Christmas,” added Bae.  “I hope he doesn’t bring Roland the same things we did.”

Robin smiled.  “Don’t worry, I can let Santa know the next time I speak to him.”

“You know  _Santa_?”  Gideon’s eyes had gone very wide and round.

“Of course,” said Robin.  “All parents do.”

Gold tried to hide his smirk as Gideon shared an awed, almost worried glance with Bae.

“We’ll leave you in peace, then,” said Gold.  “Merry Christmas.”

“Merry Christmas,” said Robin, shaking his hand.

They set off back to the car, and Gold strapped the boys in the back, getting in the front and starting the engine.

“Papa?” said Bae.

“Yes?”

“So...”  He wriggled in his seat.  “I - I didn’t actually get you anything.”

“Oh,” said Gideon.  “I didn’t get you anything, either.”

Gold smiled broadly.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said.  “I have everything I could ever want.”


	14. Rumbelle: "Are you trying to find your present?"/"Open your present"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This follows on from the Dark Castle ficlet at chapter 7 :)

Rumplestiltskin recovered from his illness after a few days.  Belle knew that he was on the mend when he stopped lying quietly in bed as she read to him, and started complaining again.  Either the sheets were too heavy, or the fire was too hot, or she hadn’t made his tea the way he liked it.  She thought he was just complaining for the sake of it, though.  Or perhaps he felt that there was a persona he had to maintain around her: the legendary beast of the Dark Castle.  She didn’t care.  She thought she knew what he was really like, deep inside, beneath all the elaborate clothes and the dramatic gestures.  Careful, and gentle: even kind.  And lonely.

The snows had deepened as Yuletide drew near, and Rumple watched her with curiosity as she stomped outside in the drifts, cutting down evergreen boughs, holly and ivy to hang in the halls.  Wreaths of mistletoe were curled on the doors, and the sharp scent of pine sap filtered through the castle.  He muttered about vermin, and the mess, but she had simply shot him one of her looks and carried on.  She had mused aloud one day about bringing in a tree to decorate, but had regretfully decided that it was a little too much for her to either cut down or drag through the deep snow.  He had gone out that night and cut one for her, setting it up in the library with a collection of sparkling trinkets to hang on it.  Just to shut her up, of course.

Belle had squealed with delight when she saw the tree, and hugged him impulsively, making him freeze in place, his eyes wide.  He wasn’t sure he would ever get used to having her around, this strange girl who smiled at him with genuine warmth in her eyes, who was free with her touches and generous with her time.  He didn’t want her to go, though.  Even though a tiny part of him, perhaps the only good part of him that remained, told him that he couldn’t keep her.

Midwinter's Eve was upon them, and Belle had finished decorating the tree, red and gold ornaments hung from its sweeping branches.  She had even made a spiced wine, warmed on the fire with honey and apples, and she ladled a glass out for him, adding a measure of brandy from his liquor store.  He nodded his thanks, feeling somewhat tongue-tied in her presence, so he walked across the library floor, pretending an interest in the sparkling tree that was taking up most of the space.

“It’s probably riddled with vermin,” he said.

“You say that about everything I bring home.”

 _Home_.   _She calls it home.  I wish it were.  I wish I could give her a home._

“It’s too big for this room,” he snapped, trying to banish his own traitorous thoughts, and Belle turned to him with a wry look.

“You put it in here,” she pointed out.

“Yes, well, clearly my brain was addled,” he said grumpily.  “I should have put it in the Great Hall.”

“But you didn’t,” she said, sounding self-satisfied.  “Because the Great Hall is where everyone comes to make a deal with you, and this?”  She waved a hand around the library.  “This is  _our_ place, isn’t it?  Private, and cosy.  Intimate.”

“It serves its purpose, I suppose,” he muttered, and she rolled her eyes.

He took a sip of his wine, making a noise of pleasure at the taste, and she grinned as though he had given her a treat.  His ancient heart started to thump alarmingly, and so he tore his eyes from her, walking forward to peer under the tree, where a number of packages sat, wrapped in squares of silk and tied with ribbon.

“Are you trying to find your present?” asked Belle, sounding amused, and he straightened up, wide-eyed with astonishment.

“You - you got me a present?”

“Well, it  _is_ tradition,” she said.  “I got you several.  You can open one tonight, if you like.   _Only_ one, mind.”  She held up a finger in admonishment, and his mouth twitched.

“Very well.”

He reached for the nearest package, round and small enough to fit in his hand.  Pulling open the bow of red silk, he teased the thin gold chiffon open with his fingers to reveal a woven basket filled with tiny chocolates that gave off the scent of brandy.

“I made you truffles,” said Belle, sounding a little anxious.  “I - I had to use some of your brandy, and cream from the kitchens, and that chocolate you brought back with you, but - but I think they’re good.”

He popped one into his mouth, and it melted on his tongue, sweetness and richness and the heat from the brandy.  A vision came to him, of her bent over the kitchen tables, whipping cream until it was thick enough to mix into melted chocolate, and he smiled.

“That’s delicious, Belle.”

He licked his fingers, and swirled them in a circle.  A plume of red mist appeared, and when it cleared there was a parcel lying there, a flat, uneven shape swathed in blue silk and tied with yellow silk ribbon.  Belle took it, a curious expression on her face, and looked it over.

“Go on,” he almost whispered.  “Open your present.”

Her eyes flicked to his, and then she pulled open the ribbon, unwrapping the silk from the ornate mirror that lay within.  She blinked.

“Oh,” she said.  “Well, it’s beautiful, Rumple…”

“No, no, you don’t understand,” he said.  “That is a magic mirror.  It can show you whatever you want to see.  Just speak your wish into the mirror, and the image will appear.”

“Oh!”breathed Belle, clutching it to her chest before holding it out to look into it again.  “So, I could see my father, and my people again?”

“Whatever you desire,” he said, trying not to grin like an idiot.  She threw herself on him, laughing delightedly.

“Oh, that’s  _wonderful_!” she exclaimed.  “Thank you, Rumple!”

“Well, you’re - uh - very welcome,” he said, patting her back awkwardly, and wishing she didn’t smell so bloody good.  Or feel so good.  Leather pants were all too tight, it seemed.  

Belle pulled back, cheeks flushed and eyes shining, and gave him a grin that he could only describe as mischievous.

“Whatever I desire, hmm?” she asked, biting her lip.  “You should be careful next time you want to take a bath.”


	15. Red Cricket: "Christmas doesn't just have to be about family, ya know?"

Snow crunched under Ruby’s feet, her breath huffing from her lungs in clouds of white as she jogged along the hiking trail, winding through the reddish trunks of pines and past slender silver birch trees.  The day was cold and crisp, the sun gleaming off the fresh snow, and she crested a rise, breathing in the cold, sharp scent of pine resin and listening to the rustlings of birds in the trees.

A bark sounded, and Ruby looked around, stumbling as she did so and tripping over an unseen root.  She fell, the snow cushioning her fall, and rolled onto her back to stare up at the sky with a grin on her face.  How embarrassing.

There was another bark, and the sound of panting, and suddenly there was the scent of dog, and then her face was being licked enthusiastically.  She squawked in surprise, sitting up, and Pongo, Archie’s Dalmatian, wagged his tail at her.  Ruby petted him, giggling.

“Pongo!”

Archie was not far behind, as it turned out, bundled up in his tweed jacket with a green and yellow scarf around his neck and a cap on his head.  His nose was red from the cold, and he hurried over as soon as he saw her, offering his hands to help her up.

“I’m so sorry,” he said.  “Did he knock you over?  He gets a little enthusiastic sometimes.”

“No, it was my own clumsiness,” said Ruby.  “He just licked me to death, that’s all.”

She dusted snow from herself, wiggling her butt to assist the process, and Archie stepped back on one foot, a faint blush in his cheeks.  Ruby smiled at him.

“All set for Christmas?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“Well, it’s just me and Pongo and a microwavable turkey dinner,” he said.  “I didn’t really get anything organised this year.”

Ruby’s eyes widened.

“I can’t leave you to  _that_ terrible fate!” she protested.  “Come to us!  Granny pulls out  _all_  the stops, I swear.  You’ll go home with an extra two inches on your waistline.”

“Oh, I - I wouldn’t want to impose,” he said hastily.  “I’m sure you want to spend time with your family.”

“It’s just me and Granny,” confessed Ruby.  “And honestly, she tends to fall asleep after we eat dinner.  It would be nice to have some company while she’s snoozing.”

He smiled at that, and she put her head to the side.

“Christmas doesn’t just have to be about family, ya know?”

“Well, I guess that’s true,” he said.  “What about Pongo?”

“I’ll tie a big red bow around his neck and put some antlers on his head, it’ll be fine,” said Ruby, her eyes gleaming, and he laughed.

“In that case,” he said.  “I’d be delighted.”


	16. SwanQueen: "My gingerbread house is prettier than yours"

The Swan-Mills kitchen was warm and smelling wonderfully of mulled wine and spices.  David smiled in thanks as his wife handed him a drink, nodding his head at the activity at the kitchen table.  Regina, Emma and Henry were each wearing an apron, piping bags of white icing in their hands and bags of brightly-coloured jelly sweets open in front of them.  Henry’s gingerbread house appeared to have been buried in a snowstorm, and he ate more sweets than he stuck on it, but he had a large, sticky grin on his face, so David supposed he was enjoying himself.

“I still don’t see why we needed  _three_ gingerbread houses this year,” remarked David.

“Because Henry is ten and a child, and Regina and Emma decided they wanted to have a competition,” said Mary Margaret.  “Besides, it just means more gingerbread to eat.”

“And they look  _perfect_ ,” said Regina, pressing brightly coloured jelly sweets along the base of her house.

“Your gingerbread family is missing a child,” said Emma.

“Yes, because Henry ate it.”

“I’m gonna eat the others, if you don’t hurry up and decorate ‘em,” said Henry, and Regina shot him a firm look.

“Eat your own,” she said.  “I’m concentrating on making their home perfect.”

“It doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to look good enough to eat,” said Emma, and Regina sniffed.

“You’re just saying that because my gingerbread house is prettier than yours.” 

Emma raised an eyebrow.

“Oh yeah?”

She reached out and tugged a red jelly sweet from above the door, popping it into her mouth and licking icing from her fingers.  Regina’s eyes widened in outrage.

“I - I can’t believe you just  _did_  that, you  _completely_  messed up my colour scheme!”

“Wow,” remarked Emma.  “It’s  _really_  gonna blow your mind when I do this.”

She plucked one of the tiny gingerbread trees from the icing garden outside the house, crunching down on it and grinning.

“Fine!” snapped Regina, and broke off the chimney to Emma’s house.

“Hey!”

“Seems a winter storm blew the chimney off, Miss Swan.”

Regina popped the gingerbread into her mouth with a smirk, and Emma’s eyes narrowed.

“Yeah, well, all the lights got blown off your roof in the same storm,” she said, and tugged at all the coloured sweets, pulling them off with a shower of white icing and cramming them into her mouth.

“Oh my God, you two are like  _children_!” sighed Mary Margaret.

“Wolves came and ate everyone,” added Henry, and snatched up Emma’s gingerbread family, stuffing them into his mouth.

“Okay!” shouted Emma, holding up her hands.  “Okay, everyone calm down, I’m calling a truce!  I’m using my authority as the sheriff!”

Regina leaned on the table, fixing Emma with a flat stare.

“ _I’m_ the  _Mayor_ ,” she said softly.

“Oh my God!” groaned David, but Emma was grinning, her blonde ponytail streaked with icing.

“Come on then, Madam Mayor,” she said.  “Truce?  How about we seal it with a kiss?”

Regina smiled, straightening up, and took Emma in her arms.

“Sounds good to me,” she said, and kissed her, tasting sugar on her lips.


	17. Dragon Queen: "Does that stocking have my name on it?"

“I’m home!” Regina called, closing the front door behind her and shutting out the cold.

She unwound the scarf from around her neck, shaking out her hair, and shrugged off her coat with a sigh.  The house was suspiciously silent, but she knew that Mal always got home before she did, so that could mean only one thing.  Mal wanted Regina to come to her.

Smirking a little, she smoothed the skirt of her dress and wandered into the kitchen, heels clicking on the floors.  It was silent and empty, the worktops clear and gleaming.  Regina turned on the balls of her feet and headed for the lounge, where she found the object of her desire.  Mal was standing by the fireplace in a champagne silk wrap dress, her hair perfectly teased into golden rolls held back from her face, her full lips smiling.  She was just pushing a small, wrapped gift into a large stocking hung from the mantelpiece.  Two glasses of wine sat on the table off to her left, and Regina felt a smile steal across her face as she drew close enough to smell Mal’s perfume.  The heat of the fire was glorious after the cold night air.

“Welcome home, darling,” said Mal.  “I think we’re all ready for Christmas, don’t you?”

She kissed Regina, a soft, gentle kiss before she pulled back with a smile.  Regina slid her hands around her waist with a contented sigh, and nodded to the stocking.

“Does that stocking have my name on it?” she asked, and Mal’s smile became secretive.

“Perhaps,” she said coyly, and slid her leg up Regina’s thigh, taking her hand and placing it on the knee.  Regina slid her hand up Mal’s thigh, her breathing quickening a little as she felt the lace top of her stocking.

“These stockings  _definitely_ do,” purred Mal, and kissed her again. 


	18. Golden Lace: "Ho, ho, ho, bitch!"

“’You’ll never be able to get the lights up there’,” Lacey said to herself in a high tone, mimicking Ruby’s voice.  “’Even if you do get up there, you’ll probably fall and break your neck’.  Huh!  Guess you owe me twenty bucks, Rubes!”

She had climbed onto the roof of the inn, using a ladder wedged on the fire escape, which admittedly was a bit precarious, but she had taken off her usual heels and put boots on, so it wasn’t as though she hadn’t put on  _some_ form of safety gear.  It was cold on the roof, a thick layer of snow blanketing it, and Lacey had Christmas lights strung in a thick coil over one shoulder and a staple gun in her gloved hands.  The day was clear and bright, but there would be more snow to come, and she had dragged a small broom up with her, intending to sweep the snow from the roof before attaching the lights.

Cold air huffed out as she settled herself across the ridge, her legs straddling it, and she was thankful that she was wearing leather pants.  They may not have been all that suitable for clambering around on the rooftop, but they did at least keep the snow from getting through.  The faint noise of voices reached her, and she looked around, spying the slender form of Mr Gold, walking with his usual swift, limping stride, his overcoat billowing in the breeze.  Lacey felt her belly tug a little as she watched him, and told herself crossly to ignore her ridiculous crush.  He was being pursued - in more ways than one, she suspected - by Zelena Mills.

The Mayor’s sister was new to the town, and had already been making a nuisance of herself with some of the business owners.  She seemed to think politeness completely beneath her when it came to anyone working in the service industry, and Lacey had wanted to throw a drink over her on more than one occasion.  Particularly when she had muttered under her breath that both Lacey and Ruby dressed like streetwalkers and probably had as many diseases.  Ruby had had to hold her back when she overheard that one.  Over the weeks, Miss Mills seemed to have developed an obsession with Mr Gold, and Lacey found herself feeling partly jealous and partly amused at his supreme indifference to the woman.

“Just one drink,” she was saying, in a wheedling tone.  “What harm could it do?”

“I daresay that’s been the last sentence spoken before all manner of terrible outcomes, none of which I wish to experience,” he said dryly.

Lacey grinned.   _Yeah, fuck off, bitch._

“It’s almost Christmas,” she added, as he turned onto the path that led to the inn.  “Surely you need a date for Granny’s Christmas party?”

“The party I’m not attending?” he said.  “I cannot stress enough how much I  _don’t_ need a date, thank you.”

She hurried to get ahead of him on the path, and turned to face him, blocking his way to the entrance of the inn.  She was directly below Lacey, reddish curls whipped by the breeze and some stupid fucking hat perched on her head.  Gold rolled his eyes, and Lacey felt sorry for him.  He was far too polite to push the woman aside.

“Miss Mills…”

“Oh, come on, you know you’ll be there,” she said.  “Wouldn’t you rather spend the evening having intelligent conversation than staring down the blouse of that trollop that works there?”

Lacey’s eyes widened in outrage, and she shifted on the roof, the broom digging into the layer of snow.   _She either means me or Ruby, and either way…_

“Please stand aside,” said Gold quietly.

Miss Mills reached out to touch his chest, making him flinch back, and Lacey couldn’t stand it any longer.  She shoved with the broom as hard as she could, and a thick layer of snow about two feet wide slid from the roof and thumped onto Miss Mills, sending her to the ground with a shriek and a flurry of white powder.  Lacey giggled.

“Ho, ho, ho, bitch!” she called.

Gold looked up, catching her eye.  He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling, and she felt her heart thump.

“Why thank you, Miss French,” he called.  “Please tell Mrs Lucas I’ll be attending her party after all.”


	19. Gepanny: "You didn't think I'd let you spend Christmas alone, did you?"

Granny hurried along the snowy streets, a large basket in her arms containing the last few things she needed to make the Christmas dinner perfect.  It had started to snow again, flurries of tiny white flakes gusting in the wind, and she pushed her chin down into the thick woollen scarf she wore.  She crossed the street, looking over at Marco’s workshop, and gave a satisfied sniff as she saw a light on in there and a shadow moving around.   _Just as I thought._

Hurrying up the snow-laden path, she rapped firmly on the door, and Marco opened it up, blinking in surprise as he saw her.  Granny held up the basket.

“I have a turkey back home big enough to feed an army and more booze than I know what to do with,” she said bluntly.  “So how about you come keep me and Ruby company?”

“That’s - that’s very kind of you,” said Marco, smiling warmly.  “I wasn’t going to bother with much cooking this year.”

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” she asked, with a knowing glint in her eyes.  “Come on, get your butt out of this workshop, grab a change of clothes and come over to the inn.  I’ll make a start on supper.”

Twenty minutes later they were making their way through Storybrooke at a reasonably brisk pace, Marco carrying the basket of goods for Granny, and a small pack on his back which held everything he needed for a couple of days away.  Dusk was falling, and the lights hanging from the eaves of the inn sent out a welcoming glow.  Granny let them in, stamping the snow from her boots, and led Marco through to the lounge.  She stopped dead in the doorway, frowning as she surveyed what looked like an explosion in a Christmas decoration shop.  Baubles had rolled all around, and fake snow and pieces of tinsel were scattered across the floor.

“Why is my lounge looking like a bunch of trolls rampaged through it?” demanded Granny, putting her fists on her hips, and Ruby looked guilty, hurrying to pick up the ornaments.

“Sorry,” she said.  “Pongo got a bit over-excited and almost pulled the tree over.  Archie took him out for a walk.”

“Archie and Pongo are here?” asked Granny, and Ruby gave her what she no doubt thought was an endearing smile.

“Yeah, I - kind of invited them for Christmas,” she said.  “That’s okay, right?”

Granny shared an amused look with Marco, and nodded.

“Well, of course,” she said.  “The more the merrier.”


	20. Rumbelle: "You're kind of cute when you look like Rudolph."

Mr Gold was aware of three things.  The first was that it was bloody cold, the chill seeping through his feet from the snow-covered ground and spreading up through his body.  The second was that Bae, at five years old, was getting far too heavy for a man with a limp to pull along on a plastic sled.  And the third was that the young and lovely Belle French was running towards him, bundled up in a padded jacket and beanie hat above black running tights, with a pair of felt antlers over the top of her head, green tinsel wound around the hairband they were attached to.

“Hey Mr Gold,” she said breathlessly, coming to a stop.  “Hi Bae!”

“We’re on a sleigh-ride!” announced Bae, and Belle giggled.

“Looks like you lost your reindeer,” she said, glancing between them.

Gold returned her smile, feeling his heart swell at the sight of her bright blue eyes and flushed cheeks.  She was so beautiful, like a ray of sunshine sent to chase away the darkness in his life.  Like summer heat to warm his skin on this freezing day.  Belle put her head to the side, and he realised that he probably had the world’s most ridiculous grin on his face.

“You okay?” she asked.  “Is it the antlers?  I’m getting in the festive spirit.  It’s only because it’s Christmas Eve tomorrow.  Then I’ll wear a Santa hat.”

“I - yes, I’m fine,” he managed.  “We seem to have interrupted your run.”

“Oh, I was thinking of heading back anyway,” she said, with a shrug.  “Getting cold out here.”

Gold gestured lamely to the bleak landscape and the iron clouds rolling in.

“It - ah - it looks like snow,” he said.   _The weather.  Yes, talk to her about the weather, you bloody idiot.  Fascinating._

Belle looked up at the sky, frowning slightly.  She looked lovely doing it, but Gold was the first to admit that she looked lovely doing anything.

“Yeah, I think I’ll  _definitely_ head back,” she said.  “Tell you what, why don’t I give you a hand pulling the sleigh?”

“Oh no,” said Gold hastily.  “We wouldn’t want to ask, would we, Bae?”

“Yeah!” said Bae enthusiastically.  “You and Papa can be the reindeer!”

“Well, in that case…”

Belle pulled the antlers off her head, and Gold felt his eyes widen as she put them on his, flattening his hair a little.  Her fingers brushed his scalp, sending electricity coursing through him and making him shiver. 

_“Yeah!”_ cried Bae, clapping his hands, and Gold found himself face to face with the woman he had been in love with for longer than he could remember, her small hands tugging the antlers straight and tucking his hair back behind his ears. He swallowed hard.

“So,” she said.  “Are you Dasher or Dancer, Mr Gold?”

“I - I don’t think I’m either,” he said, gesturing to the cane he carried, and his ruined leg.  He hated drawing her attention to it, even though it wasn’t exactly easy to hide, but Belle smiled warmly.

"Maybe we could be Donner and Blitzen, instead," she said. 

Her hands wandered, stroking stray hairs back behind his ears.  It was highly distracting.

“I must look ridiculous,” he said, and she sent him an amused look, a light of mischief in her eyes that made him want to kiss her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” she said.  “You’re kind of cute when you look like Rudolph.”

“The reindeer?” he said blankly.  She was still stroking his hair, straightening the antlers, and it was making it hard to breathe.  Belle sent him a wry look.

“No, my dentist.  Yes the reindeer,” she said.  “Now, this is a team effort, okay?  I pull the sled, and you wear the ridiculous Christmas head-garment.”

He chuckled at that.  “Very well,” he said.  “Just don’t expect me to join you in donning Santa hats.”

“I’m going out to get you both one especially,” she warned.  “And you’ll wear it and like it, won’t he, Bae?”

“Papa thinks you’re pretty,” said Bae, out of nowhere, and Gold wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.

“Does he now?” asked Belle, with a secretive twist to her mouth.  “Does he indeed?”

She took the thin rope that Gold had been pulling, winding it around her wrist, and turned to Bae.

“Okay then,” she said.  “Last one to Granny’s buys the hot chocolate!”

She set off at a run, Bae shrieking with glee as the sled whisked across the frozen ground, and Gold watched them go with a smile, the antlers forgotten on his head.  It seemed that he’d be buying three hot chocolates.


	21. Wooden Swan: "I hope you break your ass on that ice"

“No way,” said Emma firmly, and August straightened up with a grin.

“Come on, Sheriff Swan,” he said.  “You can’t tell me you’re nervous about a little ice.”

“That’s a frozen lake,” said Emma, pointing at the deserted lake in front of them.  “As in ice.  Ice that could easily break and take us both to our freezing, watery graves.”

“You gotta have a little faith,” said August, bending down again to lace his skates.  “It’ll be fun, trust me.”

“Last time a guy said that, I ended up punching him in the face,” said Emma, and he laughed.

“Yeah, I bet you did.”  He finished tying the skates, laces knotted in a double bow.  “Want me to do yours?”

“What part of ‘no way’ did you not understand?” she demanded.  “You go kill yourself if you want to, I’m staying right here.”

August sat back on his heels, smiling at her.  She wished he wasn’t so good-looking.  Or so nice.  Or seemed like he already knew her.  That was a weird feeling, and one she hadn’t been able to shake from the first moment she met him.  The mysterious writer from out of town, with his leathers and his motorbike.  And his penchant for bizarre date ideas, apparently.

“The ice is inches thick,” he said patiently.  “It won’t crack, I promise.”

“Why can’t we just go drink hot cocoa and watch Netflix like normal people?” she grumbled, and he grinned.

“Okay, I’m not gonna make you come and skate,” he said.  “Just give me ten minutes, and we’ll head back, okay?”

She glowered at him, and he tugged his collar closed, adjusting his scarf before stepping onto the frozen lake in his skates.  Emma watched as he sped away from her, flecks of ice spitting out from the blades.

“I hope you break your ass on that ice!” she called.

He waved at her, spreading his feet to turn in a circle, and Emma frowned.  It  _did_ look like fun.  She glanced at the pair of skates he had brought for her, and sighed.

“Dammit!” she said, under her breath, and began unlacing her boots.


	22. Rumbelle: "I'm still sad that you won't be home for Christmas"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As the Enchanted Forest is polytheistic I changed "Christmas" to "the Midwinter Festival"

Belle had been looking forward to the Midwinter Festival celebrations ever since Rumple had caved in and allowed her to decorate the Dark Castle.  Back at her father’s castle there would be music, and dancing, and the sound of laughter as revellers tried to chase away the darkness.  She and Rumplestiltskin would be alone, with no visitors to see out the depths of winter and herald the return of the sun’s warmth, but she had still prepared the spiced honey biscuits that she remembered from her childhood.  There was a goose to be roasted, which she planned to serve with baked apples and roasted roots.  She had even made a rich fruit cake, laced with brandy.  The castle kitchens were as helpful as ever, the magic there providing her with the ingredients she needed and mixing the cake batter for her when she got distracted by something else.

She had set out the cake to cool and was just washing her hands, ready to start bagging up spices for the mulled mead they would be drinking that evening, when Rumplestiltskin appeared beside her in a plume of red smoke.  Belle had gotten used to that, and barely flinched.

“If you’ve come to steal biscuits, they’re still hot,” she said firmly.  “And you can’t eat the cake until tonight.  I thought we’d have some after we open the presents.”

He looked at her uncertainly, and she noticed that he was dressed more menacingly than usual, in the spiked dragon-hide coat she remembered from their first meeting, and a shirt in black silk.  She missed his softer, autumnal colours, and realisation dawned.

“You’re going away?” she asked, sounding resigned more than anything.

“I have a deal to make,” he said stiffly.  “An important one.  I may be away for a few days.”

“Oh.”  Belle felt her heart sink.  “Oh.  Well, if it’s important…”

She turned away to hide her disappointment, and busied herself with wiping down the flour-strewn table.  She could still feel him standing behind her, an air of nervousness about him that she was unused to.

“You’ll be alright by yourself for a few days,” he said.  “You have the mirror I gave you, so you can see your family.  And - and I put extra books in the library.  I’m sure you won’t be bored.  If you are - well, you could always clean.”

In any other situation she would have given him a wry smile at that last point, but she wasn’t in the mood for his teasing.

“I’m still sad you won’t be home for the Midwinter Festival,” she said.  “There seems little point in making a feast just for me.”

She went to wash out her cloth in the sink, and when she turned back Rumplestiltskin was watching her, fingers twisting in the air uncertainly.  Belle tried to smile.

“Well, I’m sure you have important Dark One business to be about,” she said.  “The sooner you go, the sooner you’ll be back, right?”

He blinked at her with those too-large eyes.

“Right,” he said shortly, and disappeared again.

Belle sagged against the sink, feeling low.  She had been looking forward to the celebrations for weeks, and now she would be alone.  It looked as though it would be a simple affair that evening; lighting a large fire and drinking some mead, singing a song to herself and thanking the gods in her own quiet way.  Rumplestiltskin went away quite often, but this would be the first time that she was truly disappointed at his timing.  Although not the first time that she would miss him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone help me fix it!


	23. Swanfire: "Okay but hear me out, these ornaments are way better"

“You sure you want to go to the hassle of putting up a tree?” asked Emma.  “You know we’ll be picking needles out of our feet for weeks, right?”

“Hey, this is the first Christmas we’ll spend in our own place,” said Neal, head popping up from behind a rack of brightly-coloured tinsel.  “We couldn’t exactly have a tree in the bug, so this year I wanna make the most of it.”

“Fine,” sighed Emma, picking up a box of silver baubles.  “What colour scheme do you want?”

“Colour scheme?” said Neal absently, looking over the racks of hanging ornaments.

“Yeah.”  She held up the box.  “You want white and silver, stay with the frosted theme the weather has going on out there, or do you wanna go traditional and have red and gold?”

“I don’t mind.”

Neal was looking over the ornaments, and Emma picked up a set of gold musical instruments, trumpets and drums and French horns, gleaming with glitter and decorated with holly leaves.

“What about these?  Pretty cool, huh?”

“Yeah, but what about  _these_?”  Neal held up a silver swan with white feather wings, and a little car in gold.

“The Christmas car?” remarked Emma.  “Very festive.  Come on, at least these look right.”

“Okay, but hear me out,” said Neal.  “These ornaments are way better.”

“They don’t even match!” protested Emma.

“But it’s a bug like ours,” said Neal.  “Come on, it’s perfect!”

He was giving her those big puppy eyes that could always melt her heart, and she couldn’t help smiling.

“And the swan?”

“Oh, that’s you,” he said.  “You can get whatever else you like, but we should definitely take these two.  The Swan Princess and her yellow bug.”

Emma gave him a wry, if amused look, and took them from him.

“Okay,” she said.  “I guess we’re going silver and gold.”


	24. Rumbelle: "I hope you break your ass on that ice!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Carrying on from the earlier Rumbelle Dark Castle ficlets :)

Belle was feeling down, and had been ever since Rumplestiltskin said he was going away for a few days to make a deal.  He had been away before, of course, and she had found plenty to amuse herself in the Dark Castle, but as the time for the Midwinter festivities had approached, she found herself missing her father, and the servants at his castle.  She had nonetheless looked forward to preparing the Midwinter feast for Rumplestiltskin and herself, and the disappointment she felt in realising she would be left alone, when that time of year should be filled with laughter and music and family, was bitter.

She told herself that it didn’t matter; what was she to him, after all, but a stubborn and curious maid that he didn’t quite seem to know what to do with.  He made sure she was warm and safe and well-fed, and had even given her an entire library of books to read.  There were many servants who were far worse off than she.  And yet she wanted more.  She wanted to spend time with him, and hear tales of the many places he had been, and the trinkets he brought back.  She wished he was not going away.  She wished that she were going with him.

Throwing a cleaning cloth aside in frustration, she stomped to the window, where she could see that he was out on the frozen lake.  He was pacing back and forth, muttering to himself as though he was having some sort of internal argument.  Her brows drew down.

“I hope you break your ass on that ice,” she said under her breath, and blushed.  She didn’t, of course, but gods, he was irritating sometimes!

Abruptly, he stopped, as though the argument was over, and twirled his fingers in his usual elaborate way.  There was a plume of magic, engulfing him, along with a large portion of the lake.  As it cleared, her brow crinkled at the sight of him, standing in front of a large sleigh set with cushions and fur blankets.  What on earth was he doing?  He disappeared with a click of his fingers, and her frown deepened.

“Well, come along then!” he snapped from behind her, making her jump.

She turned to face him, and he was standing there with his arms folded, toes tapping in irritation.

“You’re not even dressed for the weather,” he added, as though that were  _her_ fault, and waved his hand again.

Belle gasped as her maid’s dress disappeared, to be replaced by a thick velvet gown in deep red the colour of wine, a green cloak lined with white fur around her shoulders.  She gazed up at him, wide-eyed.

“I suppose I’ll take you with me,” he said, in an offhand manner.  “Since the holiday means so much to you.”

“I - I’m going _travelling_ with you?” she asked, her voice high and excited, and she took a step towards him, wanting to grasp his hands in glee.  Rumplestiltskin took a swift step back from her, looking somewhat alarmed, his fingers doing that odd twisting pattern again, as though he were spinning. 

“Yes, well...”  He tailed off lamely, before seeming to rally.  “Don’t think this sets any sort of precedent!  I just - I can’t leave you here, you may go poking around in my things!”

“Of course,” she said, recognising a big fat lie when she heard one.  “I wasn’t about to suggest that you were doing it because you cared, that would be ridiculous.”

Rumplestiltskin eyed her suspiciously, as if he knew that he were being teased, but then nodded.

“Good,” he said.  “That’s good.  Well, come on then, we don’t have all day.”


	25. Wooden Swan: "Why is there mistletoe everywhere?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following on from the earlier Wooden Swan ficlet :)

“I told you you’d have fun,” said August, as they got off the bike outside his father’s place.

“Okay, okay,” said Emma, unbuckling her helmet.  “Ice skating was fun.  There, I admit it.”

“That’s all I ask.”  He grinned at her, and stowed the spare helmet under the seat.

“How come we’re here, though?” she asked.  “I thought we were going for hot cocoa at Granny’s.  Wouldn’t mind a whisky in mine, I tell you.”

“Yeah, I just need to pick up my wallet,” he said.  “Come on in.”

She followed him up the path and into Marco’s house, which was pleasantly warm and smelt of greenery and fresh herbs.  Bunches of mistletoe were hanging from little hooks on the kitchen rafters, and she raised an eyebrow.

“Why is there mistletoe everywhere?” she asked, and August grinned at her as he reached into the pocket of a discarded coat.

“Well, some might say that the more mistletoe hanging around, the more chance there is of being kissed under it.”

“What?” said Emma flatly, and he laughed.

“Relax, I’m kidding.  My dad collects it in the woods, bundles it up and sells it in Granny’s.  Kind of a Christmas tradition in this town, I’m told.”

“Oh.”  She looked it over.  “Hey, maybe I could buy some.  Mary Margaret doesn’t have any at our place, and good  _God_ does she need an excuse to kiss that Nolan guy, she’s driving me  _nuts_!”

August grinned at that.

“Help yourself.”  He lifted a bunch down for her, and she held up two fingers.

“I’ll take two,” she said, reaching into her jacket for some cash.  “Gotta up the odds, like you said.”

“Sure thing.”

He reached for another, unhooking it, and for a brief second the bunch of mistletoe was directly above them.  Emma grinned, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his cheek, making his eyes widen.

“Guess your plan worked, huh?”


	26. Dwarf Star: "You've never had a New Year's kiss?"

Leroy pushed through the milling crowds, scowling as he tried to get to the bar.  Granny’s New Year’s Eve parties were always popular, and while the press of bodies kept away the winter cold, it made getting drinks a lengthy process.  And boy, did he need a drink!  A late night call-out fixing someone’s heating system meant that he had reached the party with only ten minutes to go until midnight.  It would be the first time in years that he would enter the New Year as sober as a judge.

He waited his turn, scowling as he looked around the diner.  Everyone seemed to have achieved varying levels of intoxication, from the almost-sober Archie Hopper, to Tom Clark, who was staggering a little and singing a Christmas song.  The decorations and lights were still up, and there were bunches of mistletoe still hanging from the doorways, although they were looking a little bedraggled by now.  That didn’t appear to stop couples getting amorous beneath them, and his eyes widened as he saw Belle French grab Mr Gold’s lapels and pull him in for a very thorough kiss.

“Huh,” he muttered to himself.  “About damn time.”

He glanced back around as Ruby finished serving a customer, and she grinned as she caught his eye.

“Thought you’d never get here,” she said, winking at him.  “What can I get you?”

“Large whisky,” he said.  “And I’ll take a beer, too.”

She pulled the beer for him, turning to get a whisky glass, and Leroy picked up his drink to take a sip.  He was pushed forwards without warning, the beer slopping over the edge of the glass as someone barged into him from behind.

“Oh my gosh, I’m  _so_ sorry!” said a familiar voice.

He swallowed the insult he had been about to let fly, turning with what he was pretty sure was a stupid grin on his face.  Astrid was wringing her hands with an agonised look, but he couldn’t have cared less that half his beer was now on the bar.

“I’m so clumsy!” she said wretchedly.  “Oh, look, your sleeves are soaked!  Let me buy you another!”

“No, it’s fine,” he assured her, still grinning like an idiot.  “It was an accident.  Bound to happen on New Year’s Eve.  Don’t worry about it.”

“You’re too sweet to me,” she said reprovingly.  “I promised myself that if I saw you in here tonight, I’d buy you a drink, and instead I throw one over you!”

“You wanted to buy me a drink?” he asked, and her eyes brightened.

“Sure!  You’ve always been so kind to me, and I thought - well, I thought, since it’s New Year, maybe you would want to...”  She stumbled over what she was going to say, and shrugged, blushing a little.  “Oh!  But then you never showed, and I thought maybe you weren’t coming, and then when I saw you I thought ‘yay!  He’s here!’  And - and I guess I was a bit too enthusiastic, so I bumped into you.”

Leroy blinked under the onslaught of words.

“That’s - it’s okay, Astrid, really.”

“So, anyway, how about it?” she added.  “It’s almost midnight.”

“How about what?” he asked, perplexed.

“New Year’s kiss, silly!”

“Oh.”  His brain went suddenly blank.  “I - I never had one before.”

“You’ve never had a New Year’s kiss?”  Her eyes were very wide.  “Well, we need to fix that right away!”

“Uh...”   _Is this happening?  Is this actually happening?_ “Okay.”

The time counted down, the voices of the townsfolk raised as the clock neared midnight, and a chorus of  _Happy New Year!_  echoed around the diner as Astrid leaned in, clutching his shoulders and pressing her mouth to his.  Leroy’s eyes went wide, his skin tingling from the feel of her lips and the sweet scent of her in his nose.  Astrid pulled back, a slow smile spreading across her face as she dropped back on her heels.

“Well then,” she said.  “I guess I started the year as I mean to go on.”


	27. Rumbelle: "Oh my gosh, actual reindeer!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Follows on from Chapter 24, when Rumple had agreed to take Belle on a trip with him.

Belle could feel growing excitement as she followed Rumplestiltskin out to the sleigh.  She was going with him!  She was leaving the castle grounds and seeing some of the world!  Admittedly by the looks of the number of rugs in the sleigh, they were going somewhere every bit as cold as the Dark Castle, but she didn’t mind that.  She would be seeing something new, perhaps meeting new people.  And if not, she would get to spend time with him, which she always enjoyed.

Rumplestiltskin helped her into the sleigh, climbing in beside her and bundling the blankets over them.

“Pull your cloak around yourself,” he said shortly.  “I won’t have you catching a cold because you were too stubborn to wrap up.”

She was about to retort that he was still only in his leathers, and would probably catch cold before she did, but she didn’t want to say anything that would jeopardise this first adventure together.  She sent him a sweet smile, batting her lashes and making him look suspicious, but then tugged her cloak shut, pulling up one of the fur blankets.  She was staring at the empty reins curiously.

“How will the sleigh move?” she asked.  “Will you just use magic?”

“Of course not,” he said.  “We’ll use magic to get as near to our destination as we can, but after that we’ll need to travel a little way.  Hence the sleigh.”

He waved a hand; there was a whoosh of red smoke, and when it had cleared, she could see six reindeer standing in the traces, red leather harnesses around their heads.

“Oh my gosh, actual reindeer!” she said excitedly, and Rumplestiltskin sniffed.

“Yes, well, they’re the only reliable method of transport where we’re going,” he said.  “Are you ready?”

Belle nodded rapidly, and he waved a hand, whirling his fingers in the air, spinning a vortex that grew large enough to swallow them, sleigh and all.  The vortex opened wide, and Belle could see another snowy land beyond, thick pine woods and steep, dark mountains in the distance.

“Here we are then,” said Rumplestiltkin.  “Hold on tight, now!  If you fall out, I won’t be going back for you!”

She sent him a look, and his mouth twitched as though he was trying not to laugh.  He flicked the reins, and the reindeer lurched forward, dragging the sleigh with them across the snow and through the portal to the frozen land.


	28. Swanfire: "That's not how Santa Claus works"

“So.”  Neal took Henry’s hand, looking both ways as they crossed the road.  “That was a pretty great movie, huh?”

“I liked the songs,” Henry agreed.

He had chocolate on the side of his mouth, and Neal bent to wipe it off with a gloved thumb.  At six, Henry was still excitable enough not to notice when he missed his mouth in a darkened cinema.

“How about hot cocoa at Granny’s before I take you home?” asked Neal, and Henry grinned up at him.

“Can we get donuts, too?”

“I think your mom might have something to say about that,” said Neal.  “Dinner’s in an hour, right?”

Henry grumbled, the bobble on his hat bouncing as he walked, and Neal grinned to himself.

“Hey, and I don’t want to hear about you staying up to midnight to wait for Santa this year, okay?” he warned.  “Or waking your mom up at six in the morning.  Your toys won’t go anywhere if you wait until a decent hour to wake the house.”

“Grandpa Nolan said if I’m up at six I can help him walk Wilby,” said Henry stoutly.  “So we won’t wake Mom, I promise.”

“Good job,” said Neal, squeezing his shoulder.

“I won’t be getting any toys this year, anyhow,” said Henry, and Neal shot him a curious look.

“What makes you say that?” he asked.  “Pretty sure you’ve been mostly good this year.  Your mom would have told me otherwise.”

“Because when I wrote to Santa, I told him I didn’t want any toys,” said Henry earnestly.  “I told him I wanted you and Mom to be friends again.”

“Yeah, uh…”  Neal was at a loss for what to say.  “That’s - that’s not how Santa Claus works, buddy.”

“But I’ve been good!” protested Henry.  “He brings you what you ask for if you’ve been good, right?”

“Uh…”  Neal ran a hand through his hair.  “I think he’s more in the toy line than complex relationship issues.”

“Oh.”  Henry’s head drooped a little, and Neal put an arm around him.

“Besides, your mom and I never stopped being friends,” he added.  “Just because we don’t live together doesn’t mean we don’t care about each other.  And we both love you a lot, okay?”

“She loves stupid  _Killian_ ,” said Henry despondently, kicking snow, and Neal sighed.

“Yeah, I know.”

“He’s always sitting on the couch and hogging the remote,” added Henry.  “And he smells weird.  Grandpa Gold said he never met a bottle he didn’t like.  I don’t know what that means.  Grandma Belle told him shush, though.”

Neal ran a hand over his face, trying not to laugh.

“Your mom needs someone in her life, kid,” he said.

“Why?” asked Henry.  “ _You_  don’t have anyone.”

“I got you, that’s why.”  Neal suddenly grabbed him under the arms, swinging him up in the air and making him squeal with delight.  “You’re enough for anyone.”

* * *

After the hot cocoa - Neal remained firm on the issue of donuts - they walked to the Nolan’s place, where Henry and Emma lived with her parents.  David Nolan opened the door, giving Neal a warm smile.

“Come on in,” he said.  “It’s cold out there, you want a drink?”

“Oh, I should - I should probably get going,” said Neal.  “Dad said dinner’s in half an hour.  Pretty sure Belle’s trying to make me burst out of my pants before New Year, and I’d hate to deny her the opportunity.”

“Just stay for ten minutes, Dad,” pleaded Henry, and Neal ruffled his hair.

“Okay, buddy, ten minutes.”  He glanced at David.  “Where’s Emma?”

David looked uneasy.

“She’s been in her room on a phone call for about an hour,” he said.  “Here, let me get you that drink.  Beer?”

“Thanks.”

Neal followed David through to the kitchen, holding Henry’s hands and walking with the boy balanced on his feet.  It was a little awkward, but Henry giggled, and David grinned at the sight.  The noise of a door slamming came from upstairs, and Neal looked around as Emma swept into the kitchen, tugging at the band in her hair and letting out her ponytail.  She nodded to Neal.

“Hey,” she said, and he was surprised to see her looking upset.

“Hey,” he said.  “What’s up?”

Emma sighed, and glanced at David.

“Can you tell Mom one less for dinner tomorrow?” she asked.  “I broke up with Killian.”

“I  _knew_ it!” announced Henry triumphantly, and looked at Neal.  “I  _told_ you that’s how Santa works!”


	29. Rumbelle: "Why does the place smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is following on from previous Dark Castle Rumbelle ficlets in this series :)

Belle looked out across the snow-covered landscape, the icy wind making her cheeks flush and her eyes stream.  The reindeer sped across the thick snow, the bells on their harnesses jingling, easily pulling the sleigh along in their wake.  Rumplestiltskin sat bundled in a thick red cloak lined with black fur, occasionally glancing across at her.  She was huddled next to him, wrapped in her own cloak, and although the wind was cold, the ride was too exhilarating for her to feel anything but excited.

The sleigh crested a hill, and Belle could see mountains ahead of them, a towering castle of ice in their midst.  Its walls and turrets gleamed deep blue and silver-white in the fading light, and Rumplestiltskin flicked the reins a little, steering the reindeer up a sweeping ramp to a huge set of doors.  He drew gently on the reins to stop the sleigh, the deer snorting white steam through their nostrils as they slowed to a halt, stamping their feet on the ice.

Rumplestiltskin got out first, reaching up to take Belle’s hands and help her down, and she held onto him as she looked around in awe.

“Where are we?” she asked.

“This is the kingdom of Arendelle,” he said.  “I’m here to make a deal with its Queen.”

There was a squeak from the heavy doors, and Belle glanced around to see a flash of red hair above a thick green dress and cloak.  Her mouth opened wide in recognition.

“Anna?” she asked, and the young woman clapped her hands to her mouth.

_“Belle?”_

Belle pulled free of Rumplestiltskin’s grasp, running across the snow to hug her friend.

“Oh my goodness, I haven’t seen you in so long!” gasped Anna.  “I thought something terrible had happened to you!  There was this  _awful_  rumour that you’d been kidnapped by the Dark One!”

“Oh no!” laughed Belle, clasping Anna’s hands.  “No, I just made a deal with him to save my people from the ogres, that’s all.”

“She’s my servant,” added Rumplestiltskin, and Anna seemed to see him for the first time, her eyes widening before narrowing warily.

“You,” she said, in a level voice.  “The enemy of love.”

“And you,” he said snidely.  “The mouthy wench.”

He swept her a sardonic bow, and Anna glared at him, then back to Belle.

“Have you come here for sanctuary?” she asked.  “Elsa would agree, I’m sure.  You shouldn’t have to serve this - this twisted man!  The gods alone know what he’ll ask you to do!”

“My, my,” said Rumplestiltskin, in a sneering voice.  “Quite ready to think the worst of people, aren’t we?  I see you’ve lost none of that temper.”

Anna opened her mouth angrily, but Belle squeezed her hands.

“Rumplestiltskin, I thought you said something about a deal,” she said, and he shrugged.

“Ah yes,” he said.  “But with the Queen, not her sister.”

“I’ll take you to Elsa,” said Anna stiffly.  “But you should be prepared for her to throw you out on your butt if she doesn’t like what you ask.”

Rumplestiltskin stepped closer, and she drew back a little before rallying and raising her chin.

“Now what makes you think I was the one to request the meeting?” he said quietly, and she glared at him for a moment.

“Follow me,” she said then, and held out a hand to Belle, turning and leading them back into the castle.

The inside of the castle was in the same shades of blue and ice-white, but Belle found it surprisingly warm.  Anna chattered away as they walked, and Rumple kept about two paces back.  As they headed deeper into the castle, there were scents in the air: spices and citrus fruit and pine resin.  Rumplestiltskin raised his nose and sniffed. 

“Why does the place smell like a cinnamon roll threw up?” he groused, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“It’s the Midwinter Festival, of course,” said Anna.  “We’ll have dancing tonight, and a feast.”  She glanced at Belle.  “You should stay, it’ll be fun!”

Belle glanced over her shoulder, to where Rumplestiltskin was striding along, the hood of his cloak pulled up and a grimace twisting his mouth.

“I - imagine we’ll be heading home after Rumple’s business is done,” she said.

“Oh, stay if you will,” he snapped, waving a hand.  “I daresay I can amuse myself among the royal court for an evening.”

Belle grinned at him, delighted, and he looked away, appearing to have developed a sudden interest in the tapestries.  She turned back to Anna.

“We’d love to come.”


	30. RushaceyRush: "You've Never Had a New Year's Kiss?"

Lacey wasn’t sure who it was that had started keeping a calendar on Destiny, but apparently it was New Year’s Eve, which meant that everyone had gathered at Brody’s still to drink terrible alcohol in a bid to forget that they were halfway across the universe with no way of getting home.

Well, almost everyone.

She reflected that since Dr Rush had met a future version of himself, he spent even less time with the rest of the crew.  Of course, the man had a massive ego, so she wasn’t remotely surprised that he was his own favourite companion, but if she was honest she missed trading insults with him.  Not to mention his weird attractiveness that she couldn’t quite explain even to herself.

The alcohol was going to her head, and she was fairly certain that she would regret it the next day, but she grabbed a bottle of liquor from the still and headed off to the control interface to see if he was still working.  Which of course he was.  The bastard was always working.  That other version of him was bent over one of the consoles, stabbing at buttons, and Lacey took a moment to admire his butt in those pants he wore.  Rush definitely had a good butt, and she was curious to know what it looked like naked.  Or what the rest of him looked like, come to that.

“Hey,” she said, and the Rushes looked over.

“Lieutenant French,” they said as one.

“Drink?” she asked, holding up the bottle, and Original Rush shook his head.

“We’re working,” he said dismissively.

“You’re always working,” she said patiently.  “Come on, it’s New Year’s Eve.  Almost midnight.  Take fifteen minutes, it won’t kill you.”

“Fair point,” admitted Future Rush, and reached over to take the bottle from her.

“ _That_  stuff might kill you,” remarked Original Rush, and Lacey sighed.

“Just drink it, would you?”

“This is how you spend New Year’s Eve, is it?” he asked dryly.  “I fail to see the point.”

Lacey shrugged.  “Makes the kissing flow a little easier,” she said.

“Kissing?” he said blankly.

“Yeah.  Like you have to kiss someone at midnight, you know?”

“Or what?” asked Future Rush.  “Your head explodes?”

“Your head only explodes if the kissing goes  _really_ well,” she said, and he chuckled, then looked surprised at doing it.

“Well, I wouldn’t know, I’ve never had one,” said Original Rush, taking the bottle and having a swig.  His eyes watered as he choked.  “Fuck, that’s terrible!”

“You’ve never had a New Year’s kiss?” she asked, surprised.  “What, seriously?”

“Not really a tradition I chose to adopt,” he said, and she grinned.

“Well, in that case, why don’t you adopt it now?” she asked.  “I’ll kiss you.  I’ll kiss both of you, if you like.”

“I think not,” he said, at the same time that Future Rush said “Okay.”

The Rushes looked at one another, and Lacey wanted to giggle.  Future Rush shrugged.

“Well, we don’t know how long we’ve got, do we?” he said.  “May as well make the most of things.”

Original Rush stared at him for a long moment, then his eyes flicked to Lacey.

“Alright,” he said.  “But me first.”

Future Rush rolled his eyes, folding his arms across his chest, and Lacey grinned to herself, wanting to rub her hands with glee.  She figured he would find that weird, though, so she didn’t.

“Okay, Dr Rush, pucker up,” she said, and stepped close, reaching up to stroke a hand through his hair.

Rush flinched initially, and she thought maybe he didn’t like to be touched.  His hair was soft, the strands falling through her fingers, and he seemed to relax a little as her hand stroked over his scalp.  Perhaps it wasn’t that he didn’t like to be touched, then.  Perhaps he just wasn’t used to it.

She moved closer, until she could feel his cool breath on her face, and her hand moved down, her fingers running over his stubble as she leaned in and pressed her mouth to his.  His lips were soft and warm, and she pushed them apart with her own, her tongue dipping into his mouth and making him moan.  Lacey pressed herself against him, feeling his arms go around her as the kiss deepened.  It was a good kiss: his tongue was soft, his mouth sweet, and one of his hands had slid up to tangle in her hair, sending shivers through her.  She was breathing heavily when she pulled back, and Rush was staring at her with something like shock in his eyes.

“My turn,” said Future Rush, and Lacey turned to him with a grin.

“My pleasure.”

He took her hand, pulling her to him, and bent his head to hers, his kiss almost rough, his stubble brushing over the soft skin of her face.  His hands cupped her cheeks as his tongue probed, and Lacey moaned into his mouth, her body pressing into his.  He turned, pushing her up against the module they had been working at, his hips grinding against her, and Lacey scored his back with her nails as he kissed her hungrily.

“Would you two like to be alone?” asked Original Rush, in a very dry tone, and Lacey broke the kiss, turning to stare at him as she tried to catch her breath.

“You can join in if you like.”


	31. Red Cricket: "You didn't think I'd let you spend Christmas alone, did you?"

Ruby paced her lounge, hands cupping her hot cocoa as she breathed in the scent of cinnamon.  Christmas music was playing, but other than that the inn was silent, no guests staying, no chatter from the kitchen.  Granny had suffered a bad fall on the ice, and had broken her leg, so she would be spending Christmas in hospital, and Ruby was alone on Christmas Eve.  It was a strange and unwelcome feeling.

She supposed that she could have arranged to go to one of her friends, but Mary Margaret and David had their new baby to deal with, and Belle and Gold had theirs.  They didn’t need a fourth wheel getting in the way, and she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a burden.  Not that they would have thought of her as one, of course.

She took a sip of her cocoa, sighing to herself.  There seemed little point in cooking Christmas dinner for one, and she was contemplating just making herself a sandwich or something.  The turkey was still in the freezer, and it would keep until Granny got home from the hospital.  Perhaps they could have it for New Year’s Day instead.

A rapping at the door made her look up, and she set down her cocoa, going through to answer it.  She blinked in surprise as she saw Archie standing there, a hat on his head and a thick scarf around his neck.  He was smiling at her, his nose red with the cold.  Pongo, his Dalmatian, wagged his tail and nuzzled Ruby’s hand with a wet nose.

“I - I hoped I might find you here,” said Archie.  “I heard about Granny, Ruby, and I’m so sorry.”

“She’s gonna be okay,” Ruby assured him.  “They’re just keeping her in for a few days.  Broken leg.”

“Ah.”  He shuffled his feet a little.  “I - I wondered if you’d do me a favour?”

“Of course!” she said, and he smiled, looking a little shy.

“I - I wondered if you’d have Christmas dinner with me,” he said.  “It’s just me and Pongo.  I usually eat with Marco, but he’s gone to stay with August this year.”

“Really?”  Ruby’s eyes widened, a smile spreading across her face.  “Archie, I’d love to!”

“Great!”

He returned her smile, seemingly at a loss for anything else to say.  She put her head to the side.

“You - want me to bring anything?” she asked, and he started.

“Oh!  No, no, just bring yourself,” he said.  “I could use some help preparing the vegetables, but I’m sure between us we can cook up a feast.”

“I’m sure we can,” she said, and leaned forward to kiss his cheek.  “Thank you, Archie.  This means a lot.”

He had blushed bright red at the touch of her lips, but his smile made his eyes gleam.

“You didn’t think I’d let you spend Christmas alone, did you?” he asked, and Ruby grinned.

“Just let me get my coat.”


	32. Rumbelle: "It's almost midnight"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a continuation of the Dark Castle Rumbelle ficlets I've been doing in this series :)

Elsa’s court contained more people than Belle had seen in months.  The guests wore brightly-coloured gowns and coats, discarding fur-lined cloaks as they grew warm from dancing.  Rumple had gone off to make whatever deal it was he was there for, but before he left her, he had rolled his eyes at the gathering crowds and waved a hand over her, changing her thick velvet dress for one of rich green silk.  Belle had held up the skirts and twirled delightedly, watching the silk shimmer in the light, and he had watched her with an odd look in his eyes before disappearing with a flick of his fingers.

Belle had finished dancing with a skinny old Duke, who had stood on her feet three times, and she was pleased to leave the floor to quench her thirst with some spiced mead.  Anna held out a cup for her as she approached the long tables groaning with food and drink, and Belle smiled at her as she wrapped her hands around the cup.

“Are you having fun?” asked Anna.

“It’s nice to dance again,” said Belle.  “It’s been some time since I got to attend a party.”

“It must be so hard, having to serve the Dark One,” said Anna, her voice low, as though she was afraid Rumplestiltskin would somehow hear her.  “Is there nothing we can offer him to get you out of this deal?  Or - or even to  _make_ him let you go.  I’m sure Elsa would help, you know.”

“Magic comes with a price, as Rumple tells me  _constantly_ ,” said Belle. “It must have taken an awful lot of magic to stop the ogres. So it demands a hefty price. Luckily I’m the only one who has to pay it.”

“Still, there must be something else you could offer him,” said Anna. “Gold, or - or jewels!  I’m sure we could help!”

“I made the deal to save my people,” said Belle firmly.  “I won’t jeopardise their safety for my own sake.”

Anna sighed, and Belle pursed her lips, looking down into her cup of mead.

“Besides,” she added.  “He’s really not so bad, you know.  Not to me.”

Anna put her head to the side, her expression thoughtful.

“You seem - you seem almost  _fond_  of him.”

“I - I suppose I am,” admitted Belle. “He’s been good to me, and when I think of the alternatives…”

“Being killed by ogres?”

“I was thinking more of being forced to marry Sir Gaston,” said Belle in a dry tone. “At least with the ogres it’d be over quickly.”

Anna giggled, looking scandalised.

“Well, I’ll pray for you, Belle,” she said.  “I have a feeling you may need it.”

“Prayers don’t work on the Dark One, dearie.”

Rumple’s cold voice made them both jump.  Belle noticed that he had changed his own clothes, and was wearing a shirt in gold silk above leather pants, and a frock coat of dark red damask silk.  It was a softer look for him, the colours suiting him, gold-flecked skin gleaming in the light.

“I prefer a more transaction-based way of doing business,” he went on.  “An exchange of equal worth.  I have no idea why people seem to think me unreasonable for it, it seems perfectly fair to me.  Nobles bargain away their children constantly, do they not?”

“That’s - that’s about forming  _alliances_!” said Anna stiffly, and he shrugged.

“The currency is people,” he said.  “How many young princelings have a choice in the matter, hmm?”

Anna gave him a frosty look, lifting her chin, and swept away to speak to one of the other guests.  Belle shot Rumplestiltskin a look, but he merely grinned wickedly at her.

“It seems I upset everyone I speak to,” he said carelessly.

“Then maybe you should dance with me,” suggested Belle.  “That way we can keep you out of trouble.”

“Well, where’s the fun in that?” he quipped, but she extended her hand.

“Dance with me, Rumple.”

He looked at her hand as though it were a live snake, but after a moment he took it, pulling her to him with a hand at her waist.  Belle gasped a little as she pressed against him, her hand sliding up his chest to his shoulder.  She could feel the warmth of his body through the coat and the thin shirt he wore.  They settled into a waltz, Belle stepping back into the turn of the dance, and Rumple’s eyes scanned the room briefly before flicking back to meet hers.  She had rarely been this close to him, and she could smell the spicy scent of him in the air, the smell she associated with magic and wonder.  It was making her a little breathless.

“I should go,” he said, and she noticed that his voice had lowered, losing some of its usual snide, high tone, his accent stronger.  He sounded more human.

“And leave me to have my feet stomped on by all these guests?” she teased, and he smiled briefly.

“I think my presence is making people nervous.”

“They’ll get used to it,” she said, clasping his hand a little tighter.  “Wait until the mead bowl is empty, and I suspect no one will care that the Dark One is dancing with his maid.”

“And what about the maid?” he asked.  “Does she care?”

“She’s having fun,” said Belle, lifting her chin. “I have to say you’re a far better dancer than that Duke of Weaselton, or whatever his name is.”

Rumple’s eyes crinkled as he smiled, and he whirled her around, making her skirts twirl. Belle giggled as they spun across the floor, gripping tight to his shoulder, and they made their whirling way through the crowds of dancers, towards the large balcony overlooking the palace gardens.  The cold air was a shock, stealing Belle’s breath, and she clung a little tighter, but he slowed the pace, turning in a gentle circle and allowing her to gaze out over the sweeping snow and beautiful, shimmering ice sculptures.  Belle sighed as she looked across the landscape, and when she turned back to face him he was watching her with a sober expression in his eyes.

“I’ve kept you locked up too long,” he said, almost to himself.

“You haven’t locked me up.”

“I may as well have done,” he said.  “Stuck in that castle with only me for company.  I - I haven’t been fair to you, Belle.”

“You’ve been kinder than I ever expected,” she assured him.

“Nonetheless.”  He pulled her against him a little tighter.  “I should go.  You should talk to your friends.”

The music stopped and applause started up from the dancers.  Belle sighed as he stopped turning her, but held on as he made to pull back.

“I’d much rather talk to you, you know,” she said.  “Being here - well, it’s made me remember how - how  _odd_ the noblewomen always found me.  I never really had any friends.  Not  _proper_  friends, not really.”

“Princess Anna likes you,” he said, and she smiled.

“Princess Anna likes  _everyone_.”

“Except me,” he said, with a chuckle, and she smiled up at him, her fingers running over the heavy silk of his coat.

“It’s almost midnight,” she said.  “Will you at least stay until the end of the feast?”

Rumple looked at her for a long moment, and eventually nodded.

“Very well,” he said.  “Another dance, m’lady?”


	33. Swanfire: "So, I didn't actually get you anything"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Following on from chapter 28 :)

Neal had walked home from the Nolan’s house with a lightness in his heart that hadn’t been there for some time.  Since Emma had told him that she had ended her relationship with Killian Jones, the world seemed a little brighter.  He had never liked the man; he seemed clingy and possessive, and Emma had seemed to shrink in on herself since she had met him, but she had told him she was happy, and he supposed it was none of his business.  He wondered what had been the final straw for her.

He said nothing to his father, or to Belle, figuring that it was Emma’s news to tell if she chose.  Besides, there was nothing to say that the man wouldn’t turn up with flowers and a disarming smile to worm his way back into her affections.  That had certainly happened more than once in the early days of their relationship, as far as he had heard.

He hadn’t really had a chance to speak to Emma about it, having had to excuse himself to get to his father’s place for dinner, but now it was Christmas Eve, and they were walking over to the Nolans’ place, Neal and Belle clutching armfuls of presents and Gold with his cane in one hand and a magnum of champagne in the crook of his arm.  Christmas Eve dinner had become something of a tradition between the two families, and this year it was the Nolans’ turn.  Neal suspected that Belle was relieved; she was pregnant with her first child, and very tired, although that hadn’t stopped her trying to push food at him every five minutes.

“I’ll probably fall asleep straight after dinner,” she was telling Gold.  “Just nudge me if I snore, okay?”

“I’ll do no such thing,” he said.  “You need your rest.  Besides, you have a cute snore, it’s adorable.”

She stuck out her tongue at him, and Neal grinned to himself.  He pushed open the Nolans’ gate, holding it open for Belle and his father, then trotted past them up the steps to ring the bell.  Henry answered almost immediately, beaming up at him before hugging him tight, and Neal laughed and ruffled his hair.

“Merry Christmas, kid,” he said.

“Merry Christmas,” he chirped.  “You didn’t have to bring presents, I already got the best one  _ever_!  Santa came early!”

“He did?” said Gold, looking surprised.  “What did you get, Henry?”

“Mom broke up with Killian,” announced Henry, and Neal rolled his eyes.  Gold’s mouth pulled up in one corner.

“Well, well, how tragic,” he drawled.  “And here I was thinking that Christmas was a time for  _gaining_  unwanted dead weight.  Miss Swan appears to be bucking the trend.”

He choked as Belle nudged him with an elbow, and Neal tried to hide his smile.

“Be nice, Pops,” he warned.

“I’m always nice,” grumbled Gold.  “And considering I won’t have to put up with a certain person’s ill-mannered attempts at conversation this year, I plan on being a model dinner guest.”

“This is gonna be the best Christmas  _ever_!” Henry declared.

“Not if you leave ‘em all outside until they freeze to death,” said Emma, entering the hallway.  She flicked golden curls back off her shoulders, turning her smile on Neal and the Golds.  “Come on in, you guys.  Mom’s just setting out some snacks.   _Amuse-bouches_ , she calls ‘em.  Look like chips and dips to me, but let’s humour her.”

“I heard that!” came Mary Margaret’s voice from the kitchen, and Belle giggled.

“I’ll give her a hand,” she said, and held up the presents.  “Emma, could you..?”

“Oh.  Sure.”  Emma took the gifts from her.  “I’ll put them under the tree.  Neal, you want to bring what you have?”

“Uh - yeah.”

Neal nudged Henry, who let go of him and stepped back.  He followed Emma through to the lounge, where the Christmas tree was sparkling with lights and glittering ornaments, a vision of silver and white, tiny feathered birds swinging from the branches and silver snowflakes catching the light.  Emma shoved the pile of presents underneath, straightening up and dusting off her hands as Neal put down his load.  He smiled at her a little awkwardly, running a hand through his hair.

“So, I didn’t actually get you anything until yesterday,” he said.  “Couldn’t think of anything, and it was driving me crazy.  I even asked your Mom, and all she could say was ‘she could use a new scarf’, so…”

Emma chuckled.

“She’s convinced I’m gonna freeze to death,” she said ruefully.

“But I did manage to find a few things,” he added, digging in his pocket for the tiny bag he had stowed there.  “And there’s this.  You can have it now, if you like.”

Emma grinned at him, her eyes sparkling.

“Opening presents before Christmas Day?” she teased.  “Isn’t that cheating?”

Neal shrugged.

“Well, I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Her grin widened, and she took the bag from him, opening it up and tipping it upside down.  Something silvery fell out, onto her palm, and Emma’s eyes widened.

“I thought this was lost,” she whispered, holding up the tiny swan pendant on its key chain.

“Oh, it’s not the same one,” he said hastily.  “I just - I managed to find one the same, and I figured - I mean - you always liked that key chain, right?”

“Right.”  She was looking it over, a tiny smile on her face, and her eyes flicked across to meet his.  “Hey - uh - thanks.  I love it.”

“You’re welcome.”  He returned her smile, glad to see that her eyes were sparkling again, a touch of her old self returning.  “Merry Christmas, Emma.”

“Merry Christmas.”


	34. Rumbelle: "You've never had a [Midwinter Festival] kiss?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is another Dark Castle Rumbelle prompt picking up from where the last one left off :)

Belle had never expected that she would spend most of the Midwinter Festival dancing with Rumplestiltskin, but here she was, twirling around on the balcony, the warmth of his body seeping into hers through the silk they wore, her breath misting out in the cold air.  It was pleasant to be out of the heat and crush of the great hall, away from prying eyes and snide comments about what the Dark One could  _possibly_  have wanted with a beautiful young woman.  She had heard more than one whispered aside about how it was pretty clear she wasn’t just serving him tea, and while it angered her, she couldn’t bring herself to care too much what they thought.  Most of them, however, were too scared of Rumple to comment, and had been unfailingly polite to her, so it wasn’t all bad.

Midnight came and went, and the music eventually slowed as the revellers grew too tired to dance.  Belle found herself swaying slowly in Rumplestiltskin’s arms, her head on his chest, hearing the heavy thump of his heart.  She sighed dreamily, and his fingers squeezed hers.

“I should let you get to your room,” he said.  “We’ll travel back home tomorrow, but you should get some rest.”

“What about you?” she asked, looking up at him, and he raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t need to sleep,” he said.  “I can sit in the library, or something.  I’m sure this castle must have at least one book that I haven’t read.”

“Hmm.”  Belle snuggled against his chest, yawning.  “You mentioning a library almost makes me want to stay awake, too.”

“In that case…”

He loosed her hand for a moment, twirling his fingers, and Belle clutched at the lapel of his coat as they disappeared in a cloud of smoke and reappeared in a bedroom.  She recognised it as the room Anna had given her, the bed draped in green velvet and a fire crackling in the hearth.  She took a step back from Rumple, looking around.

“Well,” she said.  “I guess I'll be going to bed, then.”

“Yes.”

He was watching her with that odd look in his eyes again, almost fearful, and she smiled, reaching out to take his hands.

“I had a wonderful time, Rumple,” she said.  “Thank you for bringing me here.”

“I - uh…”  He swallowed, strangely tongue-tied.  “I trust you enjoyed the Midwinter celebrations.”

Belle shrugged a little.

“I didn’t get a Midwinter’s kiss, but other than that…”

“Is that - is that tradition?” he asked, perplexed, and she giggled.

“Of course!  Didn’t you see the guests kissing at midnight?”

“Oh, is that what that was about?”  He sniffed.  “Odd rituals they have in this land.  No wonder colds get passed around so easily.”

“You’ve never had a Midwinter’s kiss, then?” she asked, and he rolled his eyes.

“Who on earth would kiss the Dark One?” he asked dryly.

“I would.”

It was pleasing to shock Rumplestiltskin, she found.  He was staring at her, eyes wide.

“What?”

“I would kiss you,” she added, feeling a blush steal across her cheeks.  “I - I  _want_ to kiss you, Rumple.”

“Have you been drinking?”

“Yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that I want to kiss you.”  She pursed her lips, looking him up and down.  “I think you want to kiss me, too.”

He blinked rapidly, looking almost afraid, and she tried not to giggle.  It was clear that she would have to be the one to make the first move, and so she took a step towards him.  He didn’t move back, which she thought was encouraging, and she tilted her head up to look in his eyes.  They were large and dark, gleaming with flecks of gold and amber in the firelight, and she saw his throat bob as he looked down at her.

“Kiss me, Rumple,” she murmured.

He licked his lips, a quick flick of his tongue, and she could hear that his breathing had quickened, his chest rising and falling more rapidly.

“Alright,” he said, in the low, warm voice that she had come to recognise he used only with her.

He reached up to cup her cheek with a hand.  There had been a time when she had thought he might be rough, being covered in tiny golden scales as he was, but instead he was warm and smooth, only the faintest texture on his skin.  She put her hands at his waist, stretching up on her toes, and he lowered his head to hers, his lips just brushing against hers before pressing more firmly.  Belle felt her heart flutter, and she kissed him back, her lips pushing at his until she could feel moisture on them, a hint of his flavour in her mouth.  His hand sank into her hair, pulling her closer, and his tongue gently parted her lips so that they could taste one another fully.  Belle moaned, pressing herself against him as the kiss deepened, and all at once he released her, shuffling back from her with wide eyes, his chest heaving.  

She pressed a hand to her mouth, still feeling the pressure of his lips on hers, and met his eyes.  There was something in them she had never seen before, a confusing mix of hope and desire and fear, and she wanted to reach out to him, to pull him back to her.

“Rumple...” she whispered, and he grimaced before disappearing with a click of his fingers, the taste of him still on her tongue.


	35. Golden Lace: Holiday Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Technically this wasn't from the prompt list, but it carries on from Chapter 18 where Lacey dumped snow on Zelena.

Lacey didn’t expect Gold to attend the party.  He had said that he would, but that was after she had dumped a load of snow on his stalker, and she suspected he had only said it to be polite.  Certainly she had never seen him at any of the other festive events that Granny held at the diner.  He didn’t even come out for Miners’ Day.  Ruby said it was because he was a miserable bastard, but Lacey thought he simply didn’t like crowds.  It was therefore a surprise to see him enter the diner, side-stepping revellers to get to the bar.  He was wearing a red shirt with a tie in a darker shade beneath the three-piece suit, and looked as though he wondered what the hell he was doing there.  She took a slurp of her drink and hurried over before he could change his mind and leave.

“Hey,” she said.  “Can I get you a drink?”

“I - uh - yes, alright,” he said, glancing around with a harassed expression.  “Whisky, please.”

“Sure thing.”

She handed her drink to him so that he definitely wouldn’t leave, and ducked behind the bar to pour him a whisky.  By the time she got back he had pressed himself against the wall, his eyes flicking from left to right across the room.

“Not one for crowds, huh?” she said knowingly, and he sent her a thin smile.

“What gave it away?”

“Come here, then.”

She grasped his arm, surprised at her own boldness but trying not to think about it too much, and pulled him with her away from the crowds and into the corner by the dartboard.  It was quieter, and a little darker than the rest of the room, and she heard him sigh with what she thought was relief.

“Here,” she said, holding out the whisky as she took her rum and coke from him.  Gold nodded his thanks.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” she said, and he shrugged.

“Honestly?  Neither did I.”

“Then why did you?” she asked, and he grinned at her.

“Having said I would in front of Miss Mills, I really had no choice in the matter.”

“Yeah.”  She tugged at her lip with her teeth.  “She’s kind of relentless, isn’t she?  Ever thought about a restraining order?”

His grin widened.

“I’m hoping that the fact that I laughed when she was covered in snow will have been deterrent enough.”

“I don’t know,” said Lacey, glancing over at the door as she saw Zelena Mills enter.  “She doesn’t seem the type to take a hint.”

Zelena’s eyes swept the room, and Lacey groaned as they latched onto Gold.

“She’s seen you,” she sighed.  “She’s coming over.  Want me to throw my drink over her?”

“I believe the Mayor has distracted her,” said Gold, nodding to where Regina Mills had grasped her sister’s arm and was speaking to her in an urgent tone.

“See, even the Mayor knows she’s making an idiot of herself over you,” said Lacey with a sniff.

“Thank you,” he said dryly, and she sighed.

“That wasn’t an insult, I just mean that she seems to think ‘no’ means ‘try harder’.”

“Well, I suppose there isn’t much to choose from in this town,” he said wearily.  “I’m a single man with my own home and business.  Perhaps that’s really all she’s looking for.”

“Hmm.”  Lacey pursed her lips as an idea formed in her mind.  “Hey, I’ve just had a thought.  What if we pretend to be dating?  Might make her take a hint, what do you say?”

Gold raised an eyebrow at her.

“So if my knowledge of romance tropes is accurate,” he said.  “Your plan is to create a fake story and tell the whole of Storybrooke that we’ve been secretly dating for some weeks in order to convince Miss Mills that I’m not interested in her.”  He tutted, shaking his head in amusement.  “Sounds like a lot of work.”

“Uh-huh.  Or, I could just kiss you.”

He blinked at her.

“What?” he said weakly.

“I could kiss you,” she repeated.  “A good, long kiss.  We even have mistletoe here.  Kiss me like you mean it, and maybe she’ll start looking elsewhere.”

Gold licked his lips, his eyes darting around the room as though he was trying to find a way out, but then they returned to meet hers, and he nodded slowly.

“Alright,” he said, and put down his drink.

Lacey put hers down too, turning back as he stepped closer.  His chest was rising and falling beneath the thin silk of his shirt, and she wondered what he looked like beneath his fine suits and expensive shirts.  She wondered if he would be a good kisser.  If he would be a good lover.  She thought so.  He seemed meticulous in everything he did, and he had those lovely long fingers.  He was reaching up to touch her with them now, stroking her cheek and along her jawline into the dark curls of her hair.  His touch made her shiver, and she felt her heart thump.

He lowered his head, pressing his mouth to hers, and she ran her hands up his arms to his shoulders, her fingers sliding into his soft hair as her tongue slipped into his mouth.  Gold let out a tiny groan, his own tongue stroking against hers, and she pressed herself against him, enjoying the taste of the whisky on his tongue and the feel of his body, firm and lean against her soft curves.  He pushed her back against the wall, his lips sliding over hers, and Lacey moaned as he kissed along her jaw and down her neck, his mouth sucking at her skin.  A crash of glass behind them made them stop, and over his shoulder she could see Zelena Mills, standing there with clenched fists, glaring daggers at Lacey.  She whirled away, wrenching open the diner door and storming out, and Lacey turned her eyes back to Gold.  He was watching her, his breathing unsteady, his eyes dark, and she licked her lips.

“That - that felt like you put a lot of effort into it,” she said breathlessly.  “Ten out of ten for your acting.”

“Yes,” he said, and his voice was low and rough, making her think of how he might sound in the throes of passion.  She swallowed hard.

“So, you’re not keen on big crowds, right?” she said, and he gave her a twisted little smile.

“Indeed not.”

Lacey jerked her head at the door.

“Want to get out of here?”


	36. Rumbelle: "Why is there mistletoe everywhere?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A continuation of the Dark Castle Rumbelle ficlets!

Belle wasn’t entirely surprised that Rumplestiltskin had disappeared after kissing her.  The man was jumpy at the best of times, more so whenever she happened to touch him, so it was hardly a shock that kissing him had made him run for the hills.  She was determined to track him down, though.  They needed to talk.

She had wanted to kiss him for some time, and she was thankful for the party and the spiced mead for giving her the courage to make the first move.  If she was completely honest with herself, she wanted to do far more than kiss him, but given that he had disappeared, it looked as though none of her late-night fantasies would be coming true anytime soon.

He had said he was going to the library, and so that was the first place she looked, but it was silent and empty, and she hissed in vexation.  He could be anywhere in the castle!  She very much doubted that he had returned to the party in the great hall, but she put her head around the double doors, just in case.  She even looked in the portrait gallery, and in the smaller reading rooms, but Rumplestiltskin was nowhere to be found.

Sighing to herself, she decided to check the stables as a last resort, and it was there that she found him, checking over the reindeer that had pulled their sleigh.  He didn’t notice her at first, muttering something under his breath as he scratched the neck of one of the deer, making it snort and shake its head in pleasure at the attention.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she said, and he started, spinning on his toes to face her. 

“Belle…” he breathed.

His eyes lit up for a moment before he averted them, his gaze dropping to the floor.  She rubbed her arms briskly; the night air was freezing, and she had not brought a cloak.

“We need to talk,” she said, and lifted a finger as he glanced up again, alarm on his face.  “And don’t even think about disappearing on me!  We kissed!”

He dropped his eyes again, as if he were ashamed.

“Yes,” he whispered.

“And…”  She faltered, unsure how to proceed.  “And - and then you just  _left_.”

“I didn’t think you’d want me to stay,” he admitted, and she put her hands on her hips.

“Why?” she demanded.  “I  _wanted_ to kiss you.  I’d have kissed you again if you’d only stuck around, you irritating man!”

He was watching her uncertainly, his fingers twisting in the air in that way he had when he was uncomfortable, and she sighed.

“Rumple, please,” she said tiredly.  “It’s late, and I’m cold.  Can we at least go back in the castle before I lose my temper with you?”

He smirked a little at that, but nodded, waving a hand and letting a cloud of red smoke envelop them.  When she opened her eyes they were back in her room, the fire still burning in the grate.  Bundles of mistletoe hung from the lamps and the four poster canopy of the bed, and more were draped across the mantelpiece.  Rumplestiltskin pursed his lips as he looked around.

“Why is there mistletoe everywhere?” he said, almost to himself, and Belle giggled.

“Anna told me that they hang mistletoe in as many places as they can,” she said.  “It gives people an excuse to kiss, you see.  I imagine their guests must  _really_  like kissing.”

“Do they do nothing but kiss in this benighted land?” he asked grumpily. 

“Maybe it keeps the cold away,” she suggested, feeling cheeky. “We could try it if you like.”

His eyes widened, and he shuffled back from her a little.

“Belle…” he began.

“Don’t ‘Belle’ me,” she snapped.  “We’ve been dancing around one another for months now, and I’m sick of it!”

He looked stricken, and she sighed, stepping closer.

“I - I wanted to kiss you, Rumple,” she said.  “And it wasn’t the mead or the dance or the fact that you brought me to a Midwinter’s party.  I would still have wanted to kiss you without any of that.  I have done for some time.”

He was silent, watching her with those amber eyes, and she swallowed hard.

“I - I thought maybe you didn’t feel the same way I do,” she went on, “but - but now I know you do.  We kissed, and it meant something, so don’t pretend it didn’t!”

He opened and closed his mouth, uncharacteristically speechless, and she stepped forward again, until they were almost touching.  He was still wearing the red damask silk coat above tight leather pants, and she ran her eyes over him, the tip of her tongue sweeping across her lips.  His eyes followed its path, and she could see that his breathing had quickened, as had her own.  She could smell the warm, spicy scent of him, and she tilted her head upwards, close enough to feel his breath on her lips.

“Kiss me, Rumple,” she breathed.

"Oh, Belle," he whispered.

He reached up to touch her cheek, a gentle brush of his fingers against her skin.  He was gazing at her with a tender expression in his eyes that she rarely saw.  She half-expected him to leave, to disappear with a flick of his fingers and leave her alone with her rising frustration, but instead he dipped his head, his lips brushing across hers before pressing down, one hand resting at her waist.  His tongue gently pushed into her mouth, and she let out a moan of pleasure as she tasted him, her body pressing against his.  One of his hands had tangled in the curls of her hair, and she gasped into his mouth as his touch sent shivers through her.  She ran her hands over his chest, feeling the scalding heat of him as her fingers ran over the thin silk of his shirt.  He let out a tiny groan, a low, guttural sound that made her belly pull and tighten, and instinctively she reached for the buttons of his coat, wanting it open and off him, wanting to touch as much of him as she could.  He broke the kiss, his breathing ragged.

“What - what are you doing?” he whispered.

"What do you think?" she asked, trying for as much  boldness as she could muster.  "I - I want you, Rumple.  I want - I want all of you."

He shook his head.

"No," he said.  "No, Belle, you don't want that.  You can't."

"Don't tell me I don't know my own mind!" she snapped.

"I'm not saying that, it's just..."  He cut off, glancing away briefly, and sighed.  “I should go, Belle.”

“No,” she said softly, fingers clutching at his shirt.  “No, don’t go, Rumple.  Stay with me.”  She kissed down his neck, making him let out that low, groaning sound again.  “Stay.”


	37. Rumbellerush: Visiting relatives

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted this for the Extracurricular trio with Moe visiting for Christmas *cringe*. I've set it some way in the future when they've bought their own place and moved in together.

Belle was pacing back and forth anxiously, her fingers twisting together.  The lounge was looking suitably festive, although California was currently too warm for snow.  It was their first Christmas in the new house, and she had enjoyed decorating the place.  Getting the house together made their relationship official in the eyes of everyone they knew, and so she had decided to tell her father.  In hindsight she wished she had given him time to get used to the idea before inviting him over for Christmas, but she suspected that there would never have been a good time to tell him that his only daughter was in a relationship with two men.  Moe French wasn’t known for his tolerance of anything that was outside the norm.

“Belle.”  Gold’s voice made her look around.  “Try to relax, would you?”

“I can’t,” she said fretfully.  “He’ll be here any second!”

“He’ll either be able to handle it, or he won’t,” said Gold patiently. 

“State the obvious, why don’t you?” remarked Rush, not looking up from the paper he was reading. 

“How can you two be so calm?” Belle demanded. “I did tell you about his lowkey bigotry, right?” 

“You did,” said Gold, and pushed to his feet to take her hand. “But his opinion of us won’t change anything.” 

“Maybe he just won’t mention it,” added Rush. “As long as we don’t have him walk in on us or something, maybe he’ll just pretend it’s not happening.” 

“So all three of us live together in an entirely platonic household?” she suggested. “That might work.” 

“You told him we were all involved,” pointed out Rush. “I think it’s a little late to try spinning that yarn.” 

“Besides, I’m not pretending to be something I’m not,” snapped Gold, and Rush met his eyes. 

“Agreed.” 

“Okay, fine,” sighed Belle. “I know that’s for the best, we just have to get through this.” 

At that moment, a cab pulled up outside, and Belle squeaked in alarm, clutching at Gold’s hand. Rush put his paper aside. 

“I’ll get the door, then.” 

“No no, I’ll do it,” she said quickly, and hurried out into the hall as the bell rang. 

Moe French was a big man, tall and somewhat hefty.  He hugged Belle when she opened the door, but the look in his eyes when she pulled back made her sigh.  He was frowning as he looked around.

“Come in and see what we’ve done with the place,” she said.  “I’ll make the introductions.”

“Ah,” he said.  “So they’re - both - here?”

“Of course,” she said patiently. “Dinner’s almost ready.  Can I get you a drink?”

“Got a feeling I’ll need one,” he muttered, and followed her in.

She led him through to the lounge, and he gave Gold and Rush a narrow-eyed look of suspicion.

“Dad, this is Rumford Gold, and Nicholas Rush,” she said.  “Guys, this is my dad, Moe French.”

“Delighted to meet you,” said Gold smoothly, holding out a hand.  Moe hesitated before he took it.

“Mr Gold, Mr Rush.”

“Dr Rush,” Rush corrected him, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“I’ll get you that drink,” she said hurriedly.  “Beer?”

“Got anything stronger?” he muttered.  “This may take a few stiff whiskies.”

She sighed, but ducked out to get him a drink, and Moe glanced around the room.

“Looks a nice enough place,” he said grudgingly.  “You own it?”

“We do,” said Gold.  “It’s taken a little while to get all the decorating done, but I think we’re just about there.  Belle picked the colour schemes.”

“Right,” Moe shuffled his feet awkwardly.  “Right.  Is there - is there anywhere I shouldn’t go?”

“What?” asked Gold, perplexed, and Moe ran a hand over his head, looking uncomfortable.

“I know you unconventional types are into some weird stuff, right?” he said.  “I don’t want to see anything I shouldn’t.”

Gold opened and closed his mouth, speechless, and Rush shrugged.

“Well, there’s the sex dungeon in the basement,” he said carelessly.  “You should probably stay out of there.”

“He’s joking,” said Gold quickly, glaring at Rush, and Moe grunted.

“Somehow I doubt that.”

Belle trotted back into the lounge, handing a glass of whisky to her father and looking between them with wide, anxious eyes that made Gold want to sigh.

“I’ll just check on the dinner,” he said.

* * *

Gold served up dinner, a simple dish of baked cannelloni with salad, and opened up a bottle of good red wine.  Moe had already drunk three whiskies, and was looking a little glassy-eyed.  Belle had tried to keep the conversation on light topics such as the weather and their wider family, but it didn’t seem to make anything less awkward.

“Aurora’s getting married, by the way,” he said.  “Your Aunt Rose wanted to know if you’d be going to the wedding.  I said I wasn’t sure if you’d have the time.”

“Of course I’ll have the time,” she said.  “We’d love to go.”

Moe took a slurp of his wine, his mouth flattening.

“I have a feeling the invitation would be plus one, not plus two,” he said, and Belle sighed.

“I’ll speak to Aurora about it,” she said resignedly, and there was a moment of silence.  Rush and Gold shared a frustrated glance.

“So,” said Moe, looking between them.  “You two brothers?”

“No,” said Gold, at the same time that Rush said “God, no!”

“We’re good friends, and colleagues,” added Gold, and Rush winked at him.

“Hmm.”  Moe took another drink, his eyes still switching between them.  “But you all live together, right?”

Gold nodded, reaching for his wine and taking a large sip.

“So, how did this come about?” asked Moe.

“Rush and I had started dating,” explained Belle.  “And then Gold asked me out, too, so…”

“What’s the matter, couldn’t find your own woman?” asked Moe, and Gold frowned.

“It wasn’t like that,” sighed Belle.  “I liked both of them, and didn’t want to have to choose.  We discussed it, and agreed that this was the obvious solution to the problem.  There was some - awkwardness - at first, but that’s behind us.  Now I love them both, and we’re happy together.”

“Seems bloody weird to me,” he grumbled.  “Don’t know where you got these notions from, my girl, but it certainly wasn’t me.”

“I realise it’s unconventional…”

“Unconventional?”  He took another gulp of his drink.  “That’s putting it mildly.”

Rush wiped his mouth and pushed back from the table. 

“I’m going to do some work."

“No, you’re not,” said Gold and Belle, in unison, and he sighed, sitting forward again.

“So you all live together,” said Moe.  “And - and you all sleep together?”

“Dad…” sighed Belle.

“I’m just trying to understand!” he said.  “Makes you sound like a bunch of bloody deviants, if you ask me.”

“We all sleep together,” said Rush coolly.

“Sometimes,” added Belle.  “But we all have our own rooms.”

“The beds are all big enough for special occasions, though,” said Gold, a tiny smirk on his face.  “Birthdays, Christmas…”

Moe looked alarmed at that, and ran an agitated hand through his hair.

“Ah,” he said.  “Ah.  Well.  Are - are you sure you want me to stay, Belle?  I could easily get a hotel room.  You know, if you three want to - uh - want to - how the hell does that even  _work_ , anyway?”

“You seem to be very interested in the minutiae of our sex life,” said Gold dryly. “If I’d known, I’d have put together some sort of manual. Maybe with diagrams.” 

“Like a pop-up book,“ said Rush helpfully.

Belle kicked him under the table, making him grimace. 

“Dad, I’m pretty sure you don’t need to know the details,” she said.  “And you’re very welcome to stay.  We won’t hear of you going to a hotel.”

“Hmm,” he said, taking another drink.  “Well, as long as I don’t have to see or hear anything, I suppose I can handle it.”

“There are complimentary earplugs in the nightstand,” said Rush.  “We’ll hang a tie on the door, or something.”

“Just to let you know we’re doing deviant things,” added Gold, and Belle sighed heavily.  This whole thing was a bloody nightmare.


	38. Golden Lace: Kissing under the mistletoe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was prompted to write this fic for Golden Lace and their daughter in the Waiting Game verse, and it gave me all the feels…
> 
> The original Waiting Game fic is 7 chapters.  As a synopsis Lacey is in Neal’s college dorm, and she and Gold have a one-night-stand.  After which there’s a massive misunderstanding and she won’t speak to him, but then finds out she’s pregnant.  Cue yelling and drama and Gold trying to do the right thing and Swanfire being the peacemakers.  I wrote ficlets after the fic was finished and leading up to the birth on tumblr

 

If someone had told Lacey twelve months earlier that she would not only be a mother, but also be deeply in love with the child’s father, she would have thought they were high.  She had been quite happy in her studies, enjoying the challenge of her different classes as she worked towards her dream of becoming a journalist, and she had given no thought to settling down with anyone until that was accomplished.  She certainly hadn’t anticipated that she would sleep with her best friend’s dad.  Let alone get knocked up by him.  And now she lived in a large salmon-pink house in a small town called Storybrooke, owned by a certain lawyer called Rufus Gold, with their newborn daughter.  It had taken some adjusting to, but she wouldn’t have had it any other way.

Her feelings for Gold had come as a shock, and although she had never told him how she felt (to be fair, he hadn’t exactly done likewise) she couldn’t imagine being without him.  She watched him as he lit candles on the mantelpiece, adding to the low, warm light of the room glinting on his short hair.  God, he was beautiful!  Good enough to eat, and if she hadn’t given birth less than a week ago she would have been tempted to drag him upstairs to show him exactly how much she wanted him.

Their first Christmas together had been less of a celebration than she was used to, largely because she was heavily pregnant and very uncomfortable.  Their daughter had been due to arrive on the fifth of January, but had decided to make her entrance a week early, which had also rendered New Year’s Eve null and void.  They had named her Matilda, for one of Gold’s aunts and one of Lacey’s favourite fictional characters.  Tilly for short.

Lacey gazed down at their daughter as she suckled, one tiny arm waving.  It looked as though she was almost done, the nipple slipping from her mouth, and Lacey looked over at Gold as she started to grumble.

“Can you take her?” she asked.

He was there almost immediately, scooping up his daughter in a blanket and crooning to her as she hiccoughed a little.  Lacey buttoned her shirt, getting to her feet to join them.  Gold was swaying gently under the light as he murmured what sounded like a Christmas song.  Mistletoe still hung from the shade, its green fronds brushing the top of his head.  She slipped an arm around him, resting her head against his shoulder, and he kissed her hair.

“Tired?” he asked, and she sighed.

“A little.  Happy, though.”

“Yes.”  She felt him smile against her hair.  “Yes, me too.”

There was silence for a moment, and she closed her eyes with a contented sigh.  The room was warm, and she breathed in the scent of Gold’s cologne and Matilda’s baby smell, thinking that there was nowhere in the world she would rather be.  Gold kissed her head again.

“I love you, Lacey,” he whispered, and she sucked in a breath, turning to face him.

“You do?” she said softly, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling.

“How could I not?” he said.  “You’re wonderful.  Beautiful as a sun-kissed valley, and fierce as a lioness.  You poke fun at me, you challenge me… “  He shook his head, still smiling.  “Every minute of every day with you is exciting.  Breathtaking.”

She swallowed hard, wanting to cry, and he moved closer, his thumb stroking over her cheek.

“And you’ll be a wonderful mother to our daughter,” he added softly.  “I know - I know this hasn’t been easy.  I know this wasn’t what you planned - it wasn’t what  _I_ planned, but honestly I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

“Yeah,” she whispered.  “Yeah, I feel the same.”

“Well, then.”

He was smiling at her, his eyes glinting, and she wanted to cry.  She had gone into this pregnancy feeling terrified: convinced he would reject her, that he would reject them both.  That she would have to try to find a way to raise her child against all the odds.  That she would become everything her father had always expected her to.  And instead Gold had taken responsibility immediately: getting them the best medical care, moving her into his house, and helping her to arrange a deferral of her college studies.

She had never been sure what that meant - whether he was simply doing what he thought he should, or whether he had real feelings for her.  He had told her at the start that he wanted to make a go of things, but they had never really discussed what that would look like, and she had been too insecure to make the first move in discussing their relationship.  Admittedly, they had slept together quite a few times since she had moved in, but she had initiated every one, and had gone back to her own room afterwards.  He had never pursued her, had never pushed her or asked her to stay, and as Matilda’s birth had drawn nearer she found herself wanting him to.  She had wanted him to want her, as much as she wanted him.  And now he did.

“Say it again,” she breathed, and his grin widened.

“I love you,” he said sincerely.  “I love both of you.”

Lacey kissed him, her mouth pulling at his before she settled back on her heels with a contented sound.

“Well, I love you too,” she said.  “Have done for awhile.  If you want me to list a bunch of romantic reasons like you just did, you’ll need to get me drunk.”

Gold chuckled at that, and kissed her again.

“I don’t need the reasons.”

Tilly’s hand got free of the blanket, waving frantically and hitting Gold in the face, making them both chuckle.

“She’s a cheeky one,” said Lacey.  “I’m guessing she’ll run rings around us if we let her.” 

“We may have to be stern,” he agreed, and she snorted.

“Yeah, like you could  _ever_ be stern with her,” she said.  “I know damn well who’s gonna be the bad cop here.”

He grinned, kissing her forehead, and she snuggled against him and sighed contentedly.  Life was good.  Life was perfect.


	39. Swanfirequeen: "How did you manage to burn the cookies?" Rating M

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This prompt was the start of the slippery slope as this fic descends into smut...

Neal sniffed as he entered the house, the unmistakable scent of burning tickling his nostrils.

“I’m home!” he called.  “They were out of cranberries, I’ll have to try tomorrow.”

There was whispering and giggling from the kitchen, and he shrugged off his coat before going through.  Regina was sitting on the kitchen table, naked from the waist up, her cheeks flushed, and Emma had what looked like frosting in her hair.  The smell of burning was strong, and he put his hands on his hips as he noticed a tray of what looked like pieces of charcoal in various festive shapes.  Neal gestured at them with a raised eyebrow.

“How did you manage to burn the cookies?” he asked.

“We got a little distracted,” said Regina, with a wicked grin.

“Turns out there are more delicious ways to enjoy frosting than on cookies,” added Emma, slipping her arms around Regina’s waist, and Neal broke into a grin.  Regina held up the tube of frosting.

“How about it, Cassidy?” she said.  “Want to see how much sweetness you can handle?”


	40. Malcolm/Fiona: "I told you you were going to get sick if you stayed in the snow all day"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This made me sad. I think they could have been a loving family if the Blue Fairy hadn't interfered.

Fiona looked up from her darning as she heard a loud sneeze from outside.  Malcolm pushed open the door, letting in a flurry of snowflakes, and set down two baskets of cut firewood.  He stamped snow from his boots, brushing it from his shoulders.  His eyes and nose were red, and she put her head to the side.

“Are you alright?”

“Feeling a little under the weather, that’s all,” he said, sounding as though his nose was blocked.  “Would you like some tea?”

“I can do it,” she said, putting her darning aside, but he waved a hand.

“No, no.  Don’t get up, I can manage.”

He let out another violent sneeze, and she pushed to her feet, hand on her swollen belly.  She was due to give birth any day now, their first child welcomed into the world at Midwinter.  It was almost as though it had been fated: that their child would be born in the depths of winter.  She could sense that he would be like light in the darkness, the promise of new life, the product of their love.

“I told you you were going to get sick if you stayed in the snow all day,” she scolded, and let out a sigh of frustration as she pressed a hand to his forehead.  “Look, you’re burning up, love.  Come and sit by the fire.”

“I wanted to make sure we had enough firewood,” he said thickly, sniffing.  “I don’t want you getting cold.  The baby will be here any day now.”

“And the first thing he’ll see will be his father sneezing,” she teased.  Malcolm blinked at her curiously.

“You think it’s a boy?”

“I know it’s a boy,” she said confidently.  “Just as I know that he’s going to be special.  A special child who will do great things.  I can feel it in my heart.”

He smiled broadly, taking her in his arms and resting his forehead against hers.

“Yes,” he said.  “And he’ll be loved.  We’ll be a family, and he’ll be loved.”


	41. Rumbelle: "So, we're kind of snowed in" - Rated Explicit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys wanted me to get Dark Castle!Rumbelle laid, and this is the reason for the rating of this entire fic series going up. I hope you're proud of yourselves!
> 
> This is more of a fic than a ficlet, given its length *snickers*

A storm had started up outside, the wind howling enough that tiny, frigid draughts were needling their way in through the tall windows.  It was warm by the fire, though, and even warmer in Rumplestiltskin’s arms.  Belle kissed him again, and to her delight he didn’t try to pull away.  He pulled her tight against him, his lips sliding over hers, his tongue gently probing her mouth.  He hadn’t left, which she considered progress, and so she tugged at the buttons of his coat again, getting it open and sliding her hands inside across the fine silk of his shirt and around his waist.  The heat of his body stole her breath, and she kissed him hungrily, loving the taste of him on her tongue.  He seemed to be enjoying it every bit as much as she was, his hands sinking into her hair, his fingers caressing her before sliding down her back.  It was only when she tried to push the coat from his shoulders that he pulled back, his breathing hard and unsteady.

“Belle,” he said softly.  “I should - I should really go.”

“Please don’t,” she whispered, her fingers clutching at his shirt.  “Please.”

“If I - if I stay,” he said, and the word seemed to catch in his throat, the tip of his tongue darting out to wet his lips.  He cleared his throat.

“If I stay with you,” he went on, “imagine the rumours that will spread.  The people here, they’ll shun you.  They’ll call you the Dark One’s mistress.”

“Oh, they’re already calling me that!” she said impatiently.  “Except some say whore, not mistress.”

“Who said that?” he demanded, his eyes flashing, and she sighed.

“Rumple, I don’t care what they think,” she said gently.  “This isn’t about them.  It’s about you, and me.  I made my choice a long time ago, and we agreed it was forever.  Do you remember?”

His fingers stroked her cheek, his eyes soft.

“I remember,” he whispered.

“So will you make me wait forever for your touch?”

His eyes darted around the room, as though he were looking for a way out, and she sighed.

“Rumplestiltskin,” she said gently.  “If I ask you a question, will you give me an honest answer?”

He blinked at her for a moment, but then nodded, licking his lips a little nervously.

“Yes.”

“Good.”  She reached up to stroke his hair, running her fingers through his soft curls, making him shudder and groan.  “Do you want me?”

“Belle…”  His voice was a desperate whisper, his chest heaving.

“You promised you’d be honest with me,” she persisted.  “Do you want me?”

“Yes!” he hissed, his eyes flashing.  “Yes, I want you, may the gods help me!”

“Then take me,” she said softly, and grasped his hand, putting it to the swell of her breast.

His intake of breath was almost a squeak, and she pushed into his palm, feeling her cheeks flush with her own boldness.  His breathing had hardened further, and she could feel it, cool against her lips.  Her eyes met his, and it felt as though she was staring into the depths of his soul.  She raised her chin.

“Take me, Rumple,” she whispered.

He shook his head, a look of wonder on his face, and his hand caressed her cheek, fingers stroking over her skin.

“You are - the strangest girl,” he breathed, and she giggled.

“Well, people have been telling me that my whole life,” she said.  “Please, Rumple.  I want this.  I want  _you_.”

“You want me,” he said, and his voice was soft, as though he could scarcely believe it.

“Yes!” she said.  “And you want me.  So take me.  Take me to bed and love me.”

He groaned a little at that, lowering his head so that his lips brushed over hers, and then he was kissing her again, his lips pushing hers apart, his tongue slipping into her mouth.  She pushed the coat from him, tugging it down his arms until it fell to the floor, and she ran her hands over his thin chest, the silk smooth to her touch, the heat of his body coming through it.  His nipples were taut peaks against her palms, and he let out a low growl as she explored him, making her abdomen clench.  His shirt was fastened with tiny gold buttons, and she pushed them through the loops, opening up his shirt.  Rumple pulled back with a gasp, looking unsure of himself, and she ran her eyes over him, candlelight making the tiny gold scales on his skin sparkle.

“Beautiful,” she whispered, and his eyes widened.

She reached out to touch him, her fingers gently running over his chest.  He closed his eyes, breathing hard, and she pushed the shirt from his shoulders until it slithered to the floor with a whisper of silk.  His arms were lean and wiry, his chest smooth with small, compact muscles beneath his gold-flecked skin.  He was warm in the light of the fire, gold and bronze and a touch of silver at his temples, and she mapped his chest with her hands, learning the shape of him, the curves and hollows and the thin lines of his ribs.  He was standing very still as she explored him, breathing hard, and her fingers slid upwards to his face, pushing into his hair.

“Kiss me again,” she said softly.

His hands were shaking as he reached for her, carefully pulling the pins from her hair and using his long fingers to comb through her dark curls.  Belle shivered at his touch, tilting her head up to kiss him, his lips soft and warm, his tongue seeking hers out.  His hands slid down her back, pulling her against him, and she gasped as she felt him press against her belly.  The feel of him, the hardness of him, made her desire surge, and she clutched at his back, pressing herself against his chest, her mouth hungry.  One of his hands had reached up to bury itself in her hair, cradling her head, and he let out a low noise of pleasure as they kissed.

She could feel her heart thudding hard in her chest, and she moaned, wanting more of him, wanting all of him.  She thought of the things she had read about in his library, things she had never even heard of in the few brief conversations she had had with married women about what to expect on her wedding night.  Things that made her cheeks flush just to think of them, but she wanted to try all of them with him.  Rumple pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck, sucking on her throat, and she rose up on her toes with a tiny cry, sensations shooting through her at the feel of his mouth on her skin.  If he were to kiss all the way down…

“Rumple,” she whispered.  “The dress.  Take off the dress.”

He straightened up, breathing hard, and lifted one finger, drawing it down the bodice of her dress and making it fall apart with a tiny whisper of magic.  Belle shook the sleeves from her arms, standing in a silk chemise and suddenly very aware that he could almost see through it.  Her nipples were tenting the thin silk, and he licked his lips as he reached up to cup her breast, thumb sliding over the stiff peak.  Belle closed her eyes with a moan, drawing him into the circle of her arms as he bent his head to kiss her, tongue wetting the silk as he sucked at her.  One finger slid under the shoulder strap of the chemise, drawing it down, the white silk peeling back to expose the pale mound of her breast.  He kissed her again, his lips hot on her skin, sucking at her nipple and sending jolts of sensation to her core.

His hand was cupping her other breast, and he squeezed, the fingers sliding up to pull down her other strap, exposing her to his mouth.  Belle felt the chemise fall to her waist, and she wriggled her hips to let it pool at her feet, leaving her naked except for silk stockings and lace garters, and the heeled silk slippers on her feet.  He straightened, his lips parted, eyes shining like burnished gold, the pupils wide and dark.

“Belle!” he breathed.  “Gods, you’re so beautiful!  So perfect!”

She could feel herself blush as he ran his eyes over her, exploring every curve, a look of awe on his face.

“Take me to bed,” she whispered, and his eyes flicked up to meet hers, his breathing hard and unsteady.  He nodded.

She reached for his hand, then, and he pulled her to him, bending to sweep her up in his arms.  Her arms twined around his neck as he carried her to the bed and laid her down, the silk coverlet cool against her back, the pillows soft and smelling of the evergreen boughs that dressed the castle rooms.  He was gazing down at her, and she ran her hands down his body, feeling the way his muscles clenched in the leather pants that she itched to take off him.  She plucked at the button fastening them, and then another, and another, opening his fly.

“The boots might be a problem,” she whispered.

He flicked his fingers, banishing his knee-high boots to the other side of the room along with the leather pants.  Belle blushed as she saw him naked, his body gleaming with tiny golden scales, a darker tone between his legs where that part of him hung thick and hard and heavy above the soft sac of flesh holding his balls.  She reached down to touch him, marvelling at the smoothness and heat beneath her hand, feeling the weight of him in her palm.  He let out a tiny, strangled noise, gazing up at her imploringly.

“Please, Belle,” he said, his teeth clenched.  “First, will you let me?  Will you let me kiss you?”

“Yes!” she whispered, and released him, watching with interest as his cock twitched.

He moved forwards until he was looking down at her, braced on the bed with his hands either side.  His skin was warm and gleaming in the candlelight, and she reached up to touch his cheek, brushing the curls of his hair back from his face.  He bent his head to kiss her, his mouth hot and sweet, his tongue sliding in between her lips to taste her.  Belle moaned, pushing up off the bed, wanting him to touch her, and he pulled his mouth from hers and kissed along her jaw and down her throat.  He found the spot where her pulse throbbed, his tongue circling, his lips sucking, and she gasped at the feel of it, at the way it made her shiver and writhe.  A final kiss, and he was moving down, lips trailing over her skin, seeking out each nipple in turn, his hands cupping and squeezing.

Belle closed her eyes, losing herself in the feel of him, the wet strokes of his tongue and the brush of his hair on her breasts and belly.  He had moved lower, kissing the hollow of her navel, shifting on his knees until he was down between her legs, his hair brushing against her inner thighs.  She could feel his breath, hot against her sex, and she blushed at the thought of him seeing her, flushed and wet and aching for him.  He used one finger to brush through her folds, releasing a flow of juices, and he groaned in pleasure, his finger tracing around her flesh to spread the slippery fluid.  Belle opened her eyes, looking down at him nestled between her legs, and he slipped a finger into his mouth, sucking off the taste of her, a low growl rumbling out of his throat and making her shiver.

He bent his head to her, fingers parting her dark curls, and at the first touch of his tongue she rose off the bed with a cry, her back arching.  Rumple groaned in response, his tongue swirling over her sensitive flesh, and she clutched at the bedclothes beside her, gasping for breath, her cheeks flushed and damp as he licked her.  His tongue was soft and warm and wet, and he was stroking her with rhythmic sweeps, rubbing over the sensitive bud at the top of her cleft.  It was almost too much, but she could feel sensations rising within her, similar to those she had managed to produce herself in the dark of the night, but somehow so much  _more_.

Her fingers twisted in the blankets, her breathing ragged and heavy, and Rumple licked at her, stroking and sliding and working her into a frenzy, her pulse throbbing in her ears, until finally she broke with a loud cry, white light bursting in her head, her cheeks burning.  Her body jerked and twitched as ripples of sensation went through her, and he buried his nose in her with a low groan, his tongue stabbing and swirling as he licked up her juices.  She continued to let out tiny moans, her hands reaching down to stroke through his hair, and eventually he pressed a final kiss to her, moving back up her body to gaze down on her again.  He was breathing heavily, his face shiny with the evidence of her pleasure, and she reached up to touch him, his skin wet and sticky.

“That was beautiful,” she whispered, and he sent her a tiny smile, as though he was relieved to have pleased her.

He reached down between her legs, stroking at her wet flesh, and very gently let the tip of one finger dip into her entrance.  Belle gasped, and the finger slowly slid inside her, all the way up to the knuckle.

“Is that alright?” he whispered, and she nodded fiercely.

It felt strange, having a part of him inside her, but she wanted more.  He began moving the finger in and out, his way eased by her fluids, and after a moment he gently added a second finger, both of them pushing deep.  She moaned, her back arching.

“Are you sure, Belle?” he said softly.  “If you’re not sure, please tell me to stop.”

She smiled up at him, with what she hoped was reassurance.

“I’m sure,” she said.  “I want you.”

He nodded, and slipped the fingers out of her, moving to lie between her legs, pressing up against her.  He was hard and hot, a rigid line snug against her core, and he reached between them, taking himself in hand and gently pushing the head into her entrance.  She clutched at his shoulders, her breath quickening.  She had read that it hurt, the first time.

He moved carefully, pushing inside her at an almost achingly slow pace, his jaw clenched from the strain.  She raised her knees a little, allowing him deeper, and he pushed up against something.  Something that made him look at her with what looked like fear in his eyes.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, and lifted a hand.  “Will you let me - I mean - I could use a little magic.”

Belle shook her head, lifting her knees higher.

“Take me!” she whispered, and dug her heels into his buttocks.

He thrust into her with a low groan, throwing his head back, his eyes closed.  There was pain, and it made her squeeze her eyes shut for a moment, but then it was gone, and she lifted her head to kiss along his shoulder and up his throat as he sank into her, sliding deep inside.  He pressed his forehead to hers, his hands stroking through her hair.  She could smell spice again, cinnamon and black pepper and a hint of cloves, mixed with his own musk.  The scent she knew was his and his alone, the scent of magic.  Dark magic, she knew that, and the thought made her shiver even as it intrigued her.  But for all his dark power, she knew that he would never hurt her.  Her own scent was there, too, the sweet musk of her pleasure on his skin, on his tongue when he kissed her.

He began to move, thrusting slowly, his hips circling a little to grind against her.  It felt incredible to have him inside her, as though he were a part of her, and she stroked her hands over his shoulders, running her fingers through his damp curls as he moved.  Her legs wrapped around him, holding him tight, and he quickened his pace a little, his thrusts harder, deeper.  There was scalding heat between them where their bodies joined, friction that made her gasp and moan and push herself against him.  Sensations were rippling through her again, rising up through her body to claim her, and she panted for breath, clinging to him, pressing her brow to his as he pushed into her.  He was stiff and rigid, his muscles growing taut, the tendons in his neck standing out, and she let out a whimper that grew to a scream as she came.

“Oh, my Belle!” he groaned, and she felt him pulse inside her as he threw his head back with a low cry, his hips bucking against her.  She gripped him hard, her flesh tugging at him, trying to pull as much of him into her as she could.  Their cries faded to moans, and his movements slowed, and she fell back against the bedclothes, her chest heaving, her face and body slick with perspiration.

There was silence for a moment except for the crackle of the fire and the sound of their ragged breathing.  He had let his head slump a little, his curls brushing her face, his breath warm on her lips.  She reached up to stroke his hair, her arm feeling loose and heavy, and he raised his head to gaze down on her with wonder in his eyes.

“Rumple,” she sighed.  “My Rumple.  That was incredible.”

“Yes,” he whispered, and kissed her again.

* * *

As soon as they could gather the strength to move, they slipped beneath the covers, a warm and sticky tangle of limbs, Belle’s head nestled against his chest.

“I want to spend every night like this,” she murmured sleepily, and he chuckled softly.

“Every night?” he remarked.  “I may be looking into the preparation of some sort of virility potion, in that case.”

Belle giggled, fingers dancing over the skin of his chest.

“I always wondered if you looked like this all over,” she said.  “Your skin is so pretty, you know.  It’s beautiful.”

“A very strange girl,” he whispered, and she giggled again.  He kissed the top of her head.

“Go to sleep, sweetheart,” he said softly.  “We’ll travel home in the morning.”

* * *

The storm had blown itself out by the time morning came, and the fire had burned down to embers.  Belle shivered as she got out of bed to use the adjoining bathroom, the cold air delicious against her skin.  She gave herself a quick wash, the cold water waking her fully, and trotted to the bedroom curtains, peering out at a landscape of dazzling white.  Snow had fallen heavily and drifted against the castle, and she pursed her lips, hearing the rustle of silk sheets behind her as Rumple shifted in the bed.

“So, we’re kind of snowed in,” she observed.  “It’s piled up against the castle gates.  Anna told me that sometimes they can be barricaded inside the castle for weeks.”

“I could clear that easily, you know,” he said, and she turned to face him with a grin.

“But you won’t,” she said.  “Not for at least a few hours, do you hear me?”

She slipped back into the bed, his skin hot against hers and his mouth warm and sweet, and he rolled her onto her back, kissing his way down.  It appeared they would be staying in bed.


	42. Rumbelle: Nosy neighbours - rated Explicit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to finish off the Dark Castle Rumbelle ficlets and this ficlet series with a peek at their morning after, so here it is!

Rumplestiltskin had lain awake for a long time, holding Belle in his arms, barely able to believe what had happened between them.  He thought it was a good thing that Dark Ones didn’t need to sleep, because he would have assumed he was dreaming.  Kissing her, touching her, taking her to bed: it was almost enough to make him think he was under the influence of a strange spell and that he would wake from a fever dream in his own workroom, the past two days a magic-induced hallucination.

He had barely moved all night, not wanting to disturb her sleep and shatter the peaceful state they were in.  Instead he had held her nestled against his chest, the scent of her in his nose and her hair tickling his skin.  As dawn had approached, he had felt Belle stir against his chest as she woke, and he had kissed her head, watching a smile curve the corners of her mouth.  Her hand had clutched at his chest as her eyes fluttered open, and she had slipped from the bed and gone to the adjoining bathroom, making an observation about the drifting snow when she returned before hopping back into bed.  He had kissed her then, rolling her onto her back and making his way down her body to pull loud cries from her as the orange winter sun inched above the horizon.

By the time he kissed his way back up to gaze down on her, she was panting for breath.  Her hair was tousled, her cheeks flushed, and he thought he had never seen anyone so beautiful in his long, lonely life.  She reached up to touch his cheek, a curious look in her eyes as her fingertips ran over his skin.

“That was beautiful, Rumple,” she whispered.

“I could do it again, if you like,” he offered, and she giggled.

“Don’t you think we should get up?  I’m sure Anna and Elsa will be expecting us for breakfast with the other guests.”

Rumplestiltskin clicked his tongue.

“It’s early,” he said.  “We can take our time.”

“Hmm.”  Belle looked up, a mischievous gleam in her eyes.  “I like the sound of that.”

She kissed him, her arms sliding around his neck, her knees drawing up to let him press against her.  He reached between them to guide himself in, marvelling at the heat of her, the feel of her as he sank deep.  Belle moaned, her head rolling back, and he began to move with long, lazy strokes.  The sound of the bedroom door opening barely registered, but the muted clatter by the fire, followed by a loud clang of something dropping on the grate, made him look up.  A servant was staring at them, open-mouthed, her hair covered in a white cap and her hands twisting in her apron.

“May we help you?” he asked snidely.

“I-I’m sup-supposed to make up the f-fire,” she stammered, a blush rising in her cheeks

Rumple waved his hand, making a blaze burst to life in the grate, and the servant squeaked in fright and bolted from the room.  Belle began giggling helplessly, but her laughter turned to moans as he kept up his rhythm, her fingers pushing through his hair.

“Bloody nosy servants,” he grumbled, and kissed her neck.

“Good thing you only have me to contend with back home, hmm?” she said, and he stopped moving, pushing up on his elbows to look at her uncertainly.

“I - uh - I’m not expecting things to go back to the way they were when we return to the castle,” he said.  “I don’t expect you to clean or do laundry or polish the table in the Great Hall.  You do - you do know that?”

Belle bit her lip, looking amused.

“Bad taste to bang the help?” she asked.

Rumple almost choked at her words, his eyes widening, and she giggled again, stretching up to kiss him.  Her fingers continued to stroke his hair, and it felt incredible, sending shivers through his body.

“You’re not the help,” he said quietly.  “I’m not sure that you ever were.”

“Is that a comment on my lack of cleaning skills?” she said, a teasing light in her eyes, and he smiled.

“It’s a comment on how our relationship has changed, certainly.”

“Hmm.”  She pursed her lips, her fingertips tracing over his cheek.  “As long as I get to be with you, I don’t care what my title is.”

He smiled a little at that.

“Then we should discuss things when we return.”

“And no running off,” she chided, shooting him a look.  “I don’t want you deciding that I need to be saved from you or that you’re not good enough for me, do you understand?”

He opened his mouth to protest, but found he couldn’t deny that he had been entertaining those very thoughts ever since he had first kissed her.  Belle’s gaze became steely.

“I mean it, Rumple,” she said severely.  “As you said, our relationship has changed, and we can’t go back to the way things were.  I don’t  _want_ to go back to the way things were.”

“What do you want?” he asked quietly, and her expression softened, her fingers resuming their stroking.

“I want us to be together,” she whispered.  “But we can talk about it at home.”

“Yes,” he breathed.  “Home.”

She smiled then, her eyes sparkling in the low light of the dawn.

“Kiss me, Rumple.”

* * *

The sun had fully risen by the time they were up and dressed, Rumple in a dragon-skin coat and shirt in red silk, and Belle in a green velvet riding dress with the fur-lined cloak she had worn on their arrival.  Belle blushed as she wondered whether the rooms next to theirs were occupied.  They had certainly made enough noise to wake the guests within, if so.  For a brief moment, she wished that they had waited until they returned to the Dark Castle before letting their passions take over, but she dismissed the thought almost immediately.  The night had been perfect.  If not for their neighbours.  Rumple seemed to read her thoughts as he straightened the cuffs of his coat.

“Spiced mead always makes the blood rise, I’m told,” he said, grinning at her.  “No doubt we weren’t the only ones to indulge ourselves last night.”

“You’re right,” she said, smoothing her skirts.  “I’m sure no one was paying any attention to what we were doing.”

“If they mention it, I can always turn them into snails,” he said, in an offhand manner, and she giggled.

“I must say goodbye to Anna before we go,” she said, and he snorted.

“Perhaps I’ll see to the reindeer, then.  I like her about as much as she likes me.”

“If we’re to be together, I will want my friends to visit, you know,” she said.

“Well, I find that the Dark One’s workroom is excellent as a place of refuge from chattering intruders.”

Belle was amused, and stretched up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Let’s go down for breakfast,” she said.  “The other guests must be wondering where we are.”

She opened the door, and sucked in a breath as she surveyed the scene before her.  Princess Anna stood in front of a small crowd made up of the local nobility and a few servants, all craning their necks to take a look.

“There, Your Highness!” said a stout man in livery who looked as though he might be the steward.  “Just as the servants told me!”

There were mutterings from the crowd behind.  Words floated back to Belle, stinging like wasps.   _Disgraceful.  Unmarried.  Ruined.  Dark One’s whore._

“He must have seduced her with magic,” whispered one of the servants to another.  “Why else would she lie with him?”

She could feel herself blushing, but there was also anger there, rising up through her body and making her skin tingle.  How  _dare_ they!  Rumple stepped in front of her, shielding her from their sight, and the crowd shrank back a little.

“The next person to say anything unpleasant about Lady Belle,” he said nastily.  “Will  _face my wrath_.  Do I make myself clear, or do I have to start turning you into invertebrates to really ram the point home?”

There were shocked gasps, and several of the guests scurried off.  A few remained: the bravest or most curious of them.  Anna raised her chin, her red hair glinting in the light.

“Belle,” she said.  “Are you alright?  I meant what I said last night, we can protect you from this - this  _creature_!”

“Rest assured, Lady Belle, I can send men to free you,” added a portly man with a thick moustache whose name she couldn’t remember.  “I was in the Ogres War alongside your father: I’d hate to have to tell him that his daughter is…”

“Is what?” demanded Belle, stepping out from behind Rumple, and thoroughly sick of all the interference.  The man swallowed hard.

“You - ah - that is…”

“Belle.”  Anna stepped forward with an urgent look in her eyes.  “Please, listen!”

“Why don’t  _you_ listen!”

“We had little choice in the matter,” said the Duke of Weselton in very dry tones.  “We could hear you all the way down the hall.  It’s disgraceful!”

“I just want to help!” added Anna.

“Oh, for pity’s sake, I’m fine!” snapped Belle, hands on her hips.  “I’m  _more_ than fine, I’m - I’m  _wonderful_!  I just spent the best night of my life in the arms of the man I love and I couldn’t be happier!  So you can all take your shocked looks and scandalised expressions elsewhere!  Rumple and I are leaving!”

Rumple smirked at that, winked at Anna, and waved a hand.  A cloud of red smoke enveloped them, and when it cleared they were out on the ice again, the sleigh they had arrived in to the side of them, and the reindeer snorting and stamping, eager to be off.  Belle sighed, and Rumple took her in his arms, kissing the top of her head.

“Well, there goes my reputation,” she said dryly, and felt him smile against her hair.

“Will you miss it?”

She giggled, looking up at him.

“Not in the least,” she said.  “Now, why don’t you take me back to the Dark Castle so we can ruin it properly?”

Rumple grinned at that, and bent his head to kiss her, his lips pulling at hers.  She settled back on her heels with a sigh of contentment, and his eyes were soft when they met hers.

“Let’s go home,” he whispered.

Yes.  Home.


End file.
